


The Fire of Eidolon

by elementalram



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Fantasy, Gen, Mystery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2020-05-28 05:01:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19387021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elementalram/pseuds/elementalram
Summary: When an ambitious young colleague goes missing during a search for immortality, Professor Layton is tasked with finding him.  He, along with his dutiful sidekicks, Emmy and Luke, must travel to a remote village called Eidolon in order to unravel the mystery surrounding his disappearance.  While they are there, they happen upon a dark secret that will take all of their skills to puzzle out.





	1. Prologue

Luke awoke with a jolt. There was dry spit caked to the side of his face. He rubbed it away, then pressed his hands and face against the icy cold window of the Laytonmobile. Darkness. He wiped the condensation from his breath off of the window and looked again. If he concentrated, he could just make out the towering forms of wild fir trees as the little car plodded down the bumpy dirt road. As the trees twisted and swayed in the howling wind, their branches seemed to reach out like the claws of a thousand tormented beasts. 

Luke shivered. “Emmy,” he said, turning away from the window to look at the woman in the driver's seat, “Are we almost there?”

“Oh, you’re awake!" Luke could see her smile in profile. "Eager to arrive, are we?” 

A low chuckle, and then Professor Layton’s grinning face peered around the passenger side seat. “Patience is a virtue of every gentleman,” he said, holding a wrinkled map in one hand and a small flashlight in the other. “But if you must know, we should be approaching a long tunnel through the mountains soon, and Eidolon Village is just on the other side of it. We should be there in time to see the end of today’s Fire Festival.” 

Luke was silent for a moment. He absentmindedly gripped his seatbelt tight as the car swayed in the wind. Finally, he spoke. His voice was small: barely audible over the rushing wind. “Do you think we will find Professor Matar?” 

Emmy was watching him through the rear-view mirror now. “Well, we wouldn’t be driving all the way up here if we didn’t have some hope of finding him, right Professor?” She managed to elbow him without taking her hands off the wheel.

“Of course, of course." He hummed thoughtfully, turning back to the view ahead. “Lorenzo Matar, that ambitious fellow; always thinking of riches and treasures. I know it's been a few months since he was scheduled to return from his leave of absence from Gressenheller, but he always did have a one-track mind. If I were to wager a bet, I'd say he just got wrapped up in his search and lost track of time. 

"What was he looking for?" Luke asked.

"I'm not completely sure the name of it, but he insisted that this town, Eidolon, is home to some kind of trinket which holds the power to immortalize one’s soul.”

"Like, make you live forever?"

"Well, yes, if the rumors are to be believed. Of course, its existence has never been proven."

Luke felt a shiver up his spine. He pulled his sweater tight around himself, drew his knees up to his chest, and turned to stare out the window again. Rain pelted the little car from every angle. Lightning flashed in the sky, followed by the deafening roll of thunder.

Emmy slowed the car. Although the wind was getting strong enough to threaten the little car's traction, she tore her eyes away from the road to quickly glance at Luke in the rear-view mirror once more. A concerned look was etched deeply on her face. She said, “I know that this is your first time away from Misthallery, but don’t worry. A big-shot detective from Scotland Yard is supposed to be in Eidolon already. I hear he's pretty good. Who knows? Maybe he’s already found Professor Matar and we won’t be needed at all.” 

“It's certainly quite possible,” the Professor mused. When Luke remained silent, he added, “Regardless of how things turn out, we should be able to have a good time at this festival. It is said to be a spectacular show, according to Professor Matar's papers. Very few people make it all the way out here to see it, since this village is so secluded, so it could very well be a once-in-a-lifetime event. That is, if it hasn't been canceled due to this downpour.” 

“Aha-- there’s the tunnel,” Emmy interjected. “We’re getting close! I for one am eager to try the dumplings. They’re supposed to be amazing!” 

As they entered the tunnel, the car ceased to shake, and the once-deafening sound of rain immediately silenced. Emmy let out a deep breath. Even Luke, from his position behind her seat, could see her tense muscles relax. 

The narrow road curved a wide arch through the mountain. It was pitch-black. They could see nothing but the thin strip of road highlighted by the headlamps of the car. Still, it was notably smoother in here, a fact for which the trio sitting in the car was grateful. 

Emmy opened her mouth to speak again when suddenly, a man appeared. He stood in the center of the road, arms outstretched. His mouth opened wide in a silent scream. Emmy swore and slammed on the breaks. The car screeched but did not stop. It skidded over an icy patch and kept going. Emmy tried to swerve away from the man, but the road was too narrow. They careened straight into the figure, then continued until the Laytonmobile slammed into the side of the tunnel. 

Emmy looked over her shoulder, her eyes wide. “Everyone okay?”

"Luke, stay in the car," Layton commanded, throwing off his seatbelt and pushing the door open. Emmy climbed over the passenger's seat and followed him for a few paces. In the glow of the Laytonmobile's brake lights, the scene was flooded with red. She stopped to look around. There was no sign of the man anywhere.

“Where is he?” Emmy said, her voice shaky. She cleared her throat and tried again. "Do you see him, Professor?" 

“Is anybody there?” the Professor called out into the darkness. His voice echoed off the tunnel walls, then faded into silence. 

"What on Earth?" Emmy said under her breath. She ran back to the car and searched around for the flashlight. 

“What happened?” Luke squeaked. “Is he alright?” His eyes were wide and brimming with tears. 

“It’s alright buddy, don’t worry, we’re going to get everything taken care of,” she whispered to Luke as she felt along the floor. She squeezed his hand, then went back outside. 

She scanned along the ground with the flashlight but could see no evidence of the man in the road. Professor Layton was hunched over, examining the dirt. Emmy joined him and shone the light over the ground there. There was no body, no blood; they couldn’t even find any footprints in the dirt, save their own. There existed only the single set of deep tire tracks from when Emmy tried to stop the car. The Professor stood up and folded his arms across his chest. He turned to look at Emmy, his face glowing red in the light from the Laytonmobile's rear. 

“Emmy, my dear, there may be more to this puzzle than we’d thought.”


	2. The Parade

Emmy could feel her hands trembling. It was difficult to concentrate on the road. As they drove through the tunnel, they could not shake the image of the man in the middle of the road with his arms stretched out before him. After Emmy and Professor Layton fruitlessly searched the road, they walked back over to the car and inspected it. The front driver’s side of the Laytonmobile was banged up from its collision with the tunnel wall, and the right headlamp was shattered. The Professor patted the hood of the car and muttered sympathetic condolences. Finally, Emmy crawled over the passenger’s seat to get to the driver’s side, and with a collective sigh of relief, they were able to start the engine without trouble. Soon, the trio was on their way once more. 

They continued in silence for a little while. Eventually, the darkness of the tunnel gave way to the glimmering bright lights of the little village. Luke pressed his face against the glass once more. Gone was the torrential downpour: instead, fluttering white snow swirled around them. Each of the little snow-capped homes they passed was adorned with colorful, twinkling stringed lights. It would have reminded him of Christmas, except that each street also featured burning torches and luminaries. That, and the fact that it was only September. As they rounded the corner, Luke gasped and pointed excitedly at the sight of a horse-drawn carriage on one side of the street. As they passed, they could hear a group of people singing merrily from within. Then, the road suddenly opened into a wide town square packed with people.

The little car slowed. “What’s the matter?” Luke asked, looking around nervously. 

“I don’t think we can drive any further,” Emmy said, turning the car onto a small lot off the side of the road. “There are too many people wandering around here.”

“Indeed. It looks like we’re going to have to walk from here.” 

With a clunk, Emmy pushed the gear into park and turned it off. The three wordlessly piled out into the snow. The air was crisp and cold, and snowflakes fluttered around them. Despite this, the street was packed with people singing, dancing, and watching a nearby parade march through the square. Emmy rummaged through the trunk for their coats and mufflers. Luke took the Professor’s hand and buried his face into the side of his stomach. He was so small that he barely came up to the bottom of his orange shirt. As Emmy wrapped Luke's coat around his shoulders, she and the Professor shared a worried look. 

The Professor put a hand on top of Luke’s head. “My boy, are you absolutely certain you don’t want to go back home to Misthallery?”

Luke looked up at him with a frown. “Yes, for the hundredth time, I’m sure!” He took a step back and drew his jacket tight around him. “I-I want to help. Let’s go see the parade!”

Emmy shrugged and smiled. “I like that enthusiasm!”

They waded through the dense sea of people. Up ahead, Emmy and Professor Layton could see a procession moving down a wide road. Emmy suggested Luke sit on the Professor’s shoulders for a better view, and Luke happily agreed. A moment later, he gasped. From his new vantage point, Luke could see a myriad of people moving down the street. Some were juggling fire clubs high into the air as they marched down the center pathway. A woman leaned back and blew bright orange fire into the air from atop a tall pair of stilts. The crowd roared with delight. A group of musicians came next, playing a jaunty tune. Luke clumsily drummed along to the beat on the Professor’s tophat. After receiving a short lecture on the merits of being a gentleman, Luke spotted a long row of cloaked figures, each carrying a ten-foot-long pole high into the air. Each person wore a long white garment that fluttered and flowed around them. They marched in time with the music, then stopped. With a wave of each person’s hand, they lit the torches one by one. 

“My goodness, look at that!” Emmy gripped the Professor's arm. Each torch now carried a fire of a different color. First came red, then orange, yellow, green, blue, violet, and finally, purple. 

“Cor! That's amazing! How did they do that!?” Luke exclaimed.

“They must be burning a different substance in each torch, each with its own unique set of chemical properties,” the Professor explained. “I daresay, it does make for quite an extraordinary show.” 

The seven figures continued down the street while dancers swayed and spun around them. Another set of fire breathers came next, and then several men bearing a large platform on their shoulders. Atop the platform was a huge stone bowl, inside of which was an enormous fire, bigger than any Luke, Emmy, or the Professor had ever seen before. This fire, with its plumes reaching high into the sky, burned a blindingly bright white. Even with his eyes shut tight, Luke could still see the glow of this fire through his eyelids. 

Suddenly, the crowd all around them raised their arms in the air. Emmy and The Professor looked around curiously. “What’s going on?” Luke asked.

“I guess this fire must be important?” Emmy ventured. The crowd grew silent.

The Professor whispered, “Perhaps we should try not to stand out.” He steadied Luke with one hand and raised his other arm into the air. Emmy and Luke nodded and followed suit. In the silence, they could hear the soft burning crackle of the fire mixed with the sound of the snow falling on the ground around them. A woman in a flowing white robe appeared from behind the fire on the platform and held up a ceramic jar. She reached inside, then scattered its contents over the fire. With a flash, it leaped into the air; long tendrils of flame seemed to lick the clouds.

“We are free!” the woman cried, her free arm outstretched above her. The crowd exploded into raucous cheers and whistles. Luke gripped the Professor’s head and hat tightly. The people around them were jumping, screaming, and whooping joyfully. Two people close by clashed in a tight embrace and nearly knocked into the Professor. In the clamor, they hardly noticed the procession had continued down the street again. Part of the crowd split off and followed behind the end of the parade. 

“What do you suppose that was about?” Emmy asked. 

“I would wager that this particular fire holds some kind of special cultural significance to these people. In any case, it has certainly piqued my curiosity.” 

Emmy looked curious. "Professor Matar didn't have anything about it in his notes?"

The Professor shook his head sadly. "The detectives did confiscate quite a bit of his work, though." 

Emmy reached up to help him lower Luke off of his shoulders. “It’s getting pretty late. We should probably start heading over to the-- What’s the name of that place again, Professor?”

“We’ll be staying at the Riddle Manor. Its proprietor, Dr. Leanne Riddle, is also the mayor of this town. She was gracious enough to let us stay in a spare room. Apparently, since Eidolon is so secluded, it does not boast a single hotel, so when I informed Dr. Riddle of our arrival, she insisted we be her guests.” 

“Isn’t that where the detective is staying also?” Emmy asked.

“Yes, and I believe there may be one or two others as well.”

Luke, who had been staring off into the distance during their conversation, suddenly stood up straight. “Hey guys, do you smell that?” He eagerly looked up at his adult companions. “It smells like fried dumplings!” 

Emmy and the Professor laughed. “Maybe we should get something to eat before we turn in, huh?” Emmy chuckled. They spotted a food stand a little ways away, and she and the Professor allowed themselves to be led through the scattered crowd.

“Ho ho ho! Hey there, little fellow!” A man behind the counter roared with laughter as Luke approached. “Did you all enjoy the show?”

Luke stopped. His face suddenly felt warm, and he found himself unable to speak. He took a step behind the Professor, who wrapped his arm around his shoulder. “It was impeccable,” the Professor replied. 

“Oh!” The man’s eyes were suddenly wide. “You’re the ones from out of town!” The man turned toward a woman who was cooking behind him. “Hey, Ari! Come look! These are the new folks!”

The woman turned around and smiled wide. “Wow, we don’t get to meet many foreigners! Where are you from?”

“London,” Emmy replied.

“How exciting! Forgive me-- My name is Gero, and this is my wife, Aria.” 

“Welcome to Eidolon. As you can tell, we just love to meet new people. It’s so refreshing!” She turned to her husband and they both laughed. When the Professor began to introduce himself, Gero stopped him. 

“We know you, Hershel,” he said. “And Emmy, and Luke, right? 

“I assume you were able to figure out we were newcomers simply because you didn’t recognize us, but how did you come to know our names?” the Professor asked. 

“Oh, word gets out!” Aria laughed and waived the air dismissively. “Do you by any chance know Erica and Harper Garnett?” When the trio confessed that they did not, she asked about a man named Marcus Purcell. 

“Ah, yes, we do know Detective Purcell. We are just about to meet up with him,” the Professor replied. 

"Oh, tell him we said hi, won't you? And give him this from us." Aria placed two bottles of wine into a bag and handed it to the Professor. "One of those is for you two dears," she said warmly.

Emmy thanked her. "You seem to know a lot about the people here," she said. "Did you by any chance know someone named Lorenzo Matar?" 

"Ahh, dear Lorenzo! What a stallion!" Aria said, holding her hands up to her face. "He came to our humble little food stand a dozen times while he was here. It's a shame he had to leave so soon."

"You mean he's not in Eidolon anymore?" Emmy said, a dejected look on her face.

"Nope. He said he had to go home and get back to work."

"When was that?"

Aria folded her arms and pouted. "Maybe a month ago? Five weeks? But I have a feeling he'll be back before too long."

The Professor raised an eyebrow and held the brim of his top hat. “Oh? May I ask what gave you that impression?" he asked. 

"The poor boy couldn't get enough of our wine and dumplings, of course!" She giggled behind her hands. 

Gero placed a dozen dumplings into a bag. “Speaking of which-- these are on the house, my boy!” he bellowed, handing the warm bag out to Luke. Luke, for his part, peeked out from behind the Professor. The smell was enticing. He could feel his mouth water. He looked from the bag to the huge, shaggy man holding it, then back again. With a little prompting from the Professor, Luke gingerly reached out to take the bag from Gero's pudgy, hairy grasp. 

The Professor squeezed his shoulder. Luke thanked the man around a mouthful of blissfully warm dumpling. 

Gero laughed, patting his round stomach. “I'm delighted that you like them, boy. Anyways, I assume you’ll be staying at the Riddle Estate, yes? You’ll want to head down this road here.” He drew some instructions on the back of a greasy napkin and handed it to the Professor. The trio thanked them, said goodbye, and started down the cobblestone street. 

"Well, what do you think, Professor?" Emmy asked. "She seemed pretty sure that Professor Matar left to go back to London."

The Professor folded his arms across his chest. "Hm, I'm not quite ready to believe that. In any case, I would like to speak to the detective before we make any final assumptions." 

Emmy smiled as she watched the Professor tap a finger to his chin, lost in thought. "By the way, did those two seem kind of... odd to you?” Emmy asked. 

“Not at all. We have to remember that this small village is very different from London,” the Professor mused. “It must be nice to know all of the names and faces of everyone who lives in your town. I can't even say I know all of the people at Gressenheller, let alone all of London.” 

"True. I wish I could at least say I knew all of the people who attend your lectures, but even that's too many people for me to keep track of," Emmy lamented. 

Despite the time, a small crowd meandered about the street, conversing, eating, and drinking merrily in the falling snow. Nearby sat a collection of people drunkenly singing together on the stoop of their tall, brick home. A group of kids used matches to ignite tiny scraps of paper on the cobblestones. When the paper burst into a tiny flame, they giggled excitedly. 

Luke, who was munching happily on dumplings a few paces in front of Emmy and the Professor, suddenly stopped. Ahead and to the right, there was a dark section of road where the lamplight did not touch. There, in the shadow, stood a tall figure clad in long, white robes. He watched them for a moment, then turned and disappeared into the shadows. 


	3. The Riddle Manor

The towering wrought-iron gate stood nearly six meters tall. If Luke craned his neck and squinted, he could just make out the name "RIDDLE" set into the steel bars at the top of the gate. As the couple at the dumpling stand had promised, the Riddle Manor stood near the edge of town, about twenty minutes away from the city center on foot. Out here, the properties were spaced far apart and tall trees surrounded them on every side. Like every home they passed on the way here, the Riddle Manor boasted a large, blazing torch next to the arching entrance. Falling snowflakes fluttered around the flames, glittering brightly before melting in the heat.

The Professor pushed the gate just wide enough for the trio to go through. It screeched in protest but otherwise opened easily. The property was lit only by a row of torches which lined the path through the trees. The snow crunched underfoot. It looked as though the snow along the pathway had been cleared out recently, but was quickly becoming buried once more. They trudged on in silence, Emmy holding onto Luke's hand, until they finally reached the clearing. 

Now the grand domicile loomed before them, lit only by a sliver of moonlight and the cheerfully colored lights twinkling oddly against the eerily gothic architecture. With tall, pointed rooftops and towering arches, he house looked as though it had originally been built to reflect a kind of Victorian style. However, through indulgence or necessity, the home had obviously undergone many renovations. As such, it was difficult for an amateur onlooker to discern anything about its internal layout. In one place, it appeared to be three stories tall, but in another, five; there was another section that looked almost like a tower that stood at least eight stories tall.

A large, handprinted sign hung over the porch beneath the glittering lights read: _Welcome to the Riddle Manor_.

Emmy bit her lip. "Gee, Professor, couldn't we have found a place to stay that looked a little less... haunted?" 

"It is quite a striking establishment, I must agree. It certainly doesn't lack personality," the Professor replied. "But unless you want to spend the night in the car, I'm afraid this is our only choice."

"And walk all the way back? No thanks." Emmy rubbed her hands together quickly and brought them to her mouth. "Well, shall we go in?" 

Luke, for his part, could feel his heart racing. He gulped. "Y-yeah, sure." 

Trunk in hand, Professor Layton led the others up the creaking steps and over the wide porch. He rapped his knuckles against the large, wooden door. To the right were several tall bay windows. The curtains were drawn shut, but they could hear the clear chime of a piano being played on the other side of it. Emmy stood a few steps behind the Professor with a hand on Luke’s shoulder. Looking to one side, she studied the shadows, but there was nothing to be seen except for the branches of nearby trees swaying in the wind. After a moment, the Professor knocked on the door again. The piano music stopped. Silence. Then, the door slowly creaked open. Two wide, round eyes peeked through.  
  
“Good evening. Mr. Layton, I presume?”  
  
He nodded. “And you are…?“  
  
“Sienna. I am the housemaid.” She quickly glanced around the yard, then opened the door wider and curtsied, beckoning them in with a smile. “Please, won’t you come in out of the cold?”  
  
The trio thanked her and stepped inside. The entryway was narrow but warm and surprisingly homey, with delicate paintings of flowers decorating the wall space. They could smell the soothing scent of cinnamon candles burning from somewhere within. 

Sienna chewed a fingernail as she watched them file in, then shut the door behind them. She was a small, mousy woman with a round face and long, auburn hair pulled back into a braid. “Please, allow me to retrieve Dr. Riddle. She has been awaiting your arrival," she said. The girl skittered away into another room off of the foyer, then returned a moment later, trailing behind a woman wearing a dark suit and loafers.  
  
“Ah, Mr. Layton! I’m so glad you’re here.” Leanne appeared to be in her early 60’s with thin, white hair pulled back into a tight bun. “It’s so nice to finally put a face to the name. And my, if it isn’t a handsome one too.”  
  
The Professor smiled and tipped his hat. “And you yourself are even more radiant than your photos suggest.” She paused, seemingly surprised, then smiled, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes and mouth. With a wave, she led them past the entryway and into the sitting room.   
  
“Cor! This place is huge!” Luke gawked, suddenly feeling small under the high ceiling three floors overhead. Above them hung an elegant glass chandelier on a gold chain. On one side of the room, they could see banisters on the second and third floors. Behind the railing on the third floor stood a row of dark, wooden doors. Luke craned his neck to see as much of the upper levels as possible.   
  
“It's fancy, too!” Emmy added, gesturing around the room. The Professor subconsciously held his breath as he watched her run a finger over the fine pattern on an enormous Chinese vase near the hall.

He averted his gaze and looked around. The interior of the Riddle Manor was indeed very luxuriously styled. Dark wood and deep red accents dominated most of the interior furnishings. On one wall hung three large wooden masks of a zebra, a giraffe, and an elephant; on a nearby marble table stood a glittering violet geode next to a large, weathered globe. An enormous oil painting featuring people dancing near an open flame hung over the fireplace above the ornate copper-and-gold grate.

Leanne laughed. “Yes, this home has been passed down from generation to generation in the Riddle family for nearly a hundred years. It’s been my home for my entire life, and I love sharing it with others, so please do make yourselves at home, dears."

"Your hospitality is truly generous, and we thank you for it," the Professor said.

Emmy nodded. "Yeah-- by the way, do you by chance know where Marcus Purcell is right now?"

"The detective? Why, I haven't seen him since this morning. He's a busy bee, that one."

"Drat." Emmy turned to the Professor. "We may have to wait to catch up with him until morning."

"That may be for the better," he replied, watching Luke suppress another yawn.

Leanne folded her arms. "Well, there are a couple of others staying here tonight, so I’m afraid the three of you will have to share a single room. My husband is currently out of the house, and I believe the other guests are still out enjoying the gala, so I’m afraid I’ll have to introduce you to them later. In the meantime, may I get you some food? Tea?”  
  
“If it’s not too much trouble, tea would be lovely.”  
  
“Certainly.” Leanne turned to the maid. “Sienna, put a pot on for the guests, won’t you?”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” she squeaked, then darted off toward the kitchen.  
  
Leanne turned back toward her visitors. “I’d offer you a tour of the estate, but I imagine you must be weary from the long trip. Especially you, little one!”  
  
Luke, suddenly finding himself in the spotlight once again, buried his face in Emmy’s yellow jacket. She patted the top of his head. “I think he’s feeling a little overwhelmed,” Emmy admitted.  
  
“Well, there will always be time for exploring later. Let me show you to your rooms, then, and Sienna will bring you some tea when it’s ready.”  
  
Professor Layton picked up his trunk and followed Leanne to the other side of the grand entrance hall. They passed several lush looking couches and a baby grand piano on the way. At the staircase, the Professor put a hand on the polished dark wood banister as he climbed. Although most of their surroundings were lit mainly by the soft, warm glow of a nearby candelabrum, he could still make out a few details of the portraits on the wall as they climbed. Several members of the Riddle family stared out at them as they passed; he confirmed Leanne’s picture by the name tag beneath it. There was also a portrait of a young girl, captioned _Nia_ , a middle-aged couple, _Carol_ _and Irvine_ and… he paused and squinted at the next one. Something about it seemed familiar. Two men were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, one with his arm around the other. The names beneath it read: _David Hartmann and Emmanuel Riddle_.  
  
“Here we are,” Leanne said, stepping off the staircase onto the third floor. She walked partway down the hall and opened up one of the rooms. “I hope you sleep well tonight. We’ll be serving breakfast in the sunroom to the right of the foyer at about 7:00, but there are also some lovely cafés nearby if you wish. If you find yourselves needing anything throughout the night, both the maid and I are at your disposal.”  
  
She excused herself, citing her bad knee as her reason for leaving them so soon, and retreated. The trio gave their thanks and turned to look at the spacious room. Just like the entryway and the foyer, it was elegantly styled. Two queen-sized beds stood side-by-side in the center; a desk, a sofa with a matching recliner, a bookcase, and an armoire made up the majority of the other furnishings. Opposite the door was a large window with floor-length curtains that were drawn shut.  
  
Luke kicked his shoes off and threw himself onto a bed. His tiny body sunk down into the fluffy comforter. The Professor crossed the room to place his trunk on the desk and, after a moment of searching, he pulled out a little pair of pajamas. With a smile, he tossed them to his small companion. Luke, peeking at him from behind a rather large pillow, grumbled something about being too comfortable to get up. 

By now, Emmy had wandered over to the windows. She yanked open the curtains. “Wow!" she exclaimed. "You can practically see the whole town from up here!”  
  
“Don’t do that!” Luke blurted out. He leaped out of bed and darted over to her. “That creepy guy in white is going to see us!”  
  
The Professor bent over and retrieved a pillow and the fallen garment from the floor. “Luke, my boy, there’s no need for worry--”  
  
“No, no, he’s right. It’s best to be careful whenever we can.” Emmy closed the curtains and turned to Luke. “You know what would be fun? Has anyone ever shown you how to properly kick a bad guy?”  
  
Luke shook his head. “No. Isn’t kicking people… bad?”  
  
“It’s bad to kick good people, but it’s awesome to kick bad guys. That’s what heroes do!”  
  
“Oh, I see.”  
  
Just then came a loud knock. “That must be Sienna with the tea,” said the Professor. He crossed the room to open the door when a towering figure barged in.   
  
“ _Layton!_ ” A burly, broad-shouldered, middle-aged man in a long overcoat pushed past the Professor. “I was wondering when you and that gaudy antique you call a hat’d get 'ere.”  
  
“Ah, there you are. Good evening, Detective Purcell." The Professor straightened his shirt and politely touched the brim of his tophat in greeting. "I was under the impression you were still out.”  
  
"Pfft! Well, you're dead wrong, Layton!" Detective Purcell laughed. "And that's why you and your smug ego won't be needed here in Eidolon during my investigation, mate!"  
  
Luke scrambled out of bed to stand beside the Professor, trembling with nervous rage. He sputtered something incoherently, but the Detective either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He went on: “You’re the belle of the ball with the manky nutters at Scotland Yard, but I’m the one who is in charge here, so don't forget it! I’m gonna be the one to find Matar myself!”

“Well, detective, I am thrilled to hear you are so confident,” the Professor said, putting a calming hand on Luke’s shoulder. “But, as you know, we were requested to be here by Professor Matar’s own mother, so we certainly cannot just turn away.”  
  
“Well, a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse, mate," he scoffed. "I don't care what brought you here, only that you recognize you aren't needed. I've got everything under control, so you can just sit back and have in the sights for all I care. I’ve searched this whole town, and now I’ve got Eidolon's entire police team searching the woods around this bleedin' village, so it’s only a matter of time before we find that Matar fellow's dead and dried up corpse and finish this case!”

"His corpse?" Luke squeaked.  
  
“Why are you searching the woods?” Emmy asked.  
  
“Hah! It isn't obvious?” Detective Purcell slapped his chest and let out a bellowing laugh. He turned to the Professor. “Who's the dame, Layton?"

"I'm Emmy. Emmy Altava." Her gaze was stern and steady.

He chuckled. "Well, if you must know, _Emmy_ , then listen to this: Matar is young, in his early 30’s. And he were a known drunkard, too. Did you know that this festival has been going on for 3 days already? And they make an extremely robust wine here, love? The bastard probably drank too much and wandered off, right, plain and simple.”  
  
“Seriously? That’s what you’re going with?” exclaimed Emmy. "You've got to be kidding me."   
  
“Hm.” The Professor stroked his chin. “That sounds like a nice theory, but for the fact that Professor Matar has been missing for over a month now, well before the festival began.”  
  
Detective Purcell’s hairy eyebrows swiftly came together as he clicked his teeth. “Fine, so he started the party early, right? Who cares? The wine existed before the chuffin' festival started-- the point is that he probably just got drunk and wandered away.” When he got no response from the others, he quickly added, "It happens all the time in London. Trust me."   
  
The Professor crossed his arms and thought for a moment. “It’s certainly possible. However, since we did make the long trek out here, I plan to take the time to explore other possibilities for his disappearance.”  
  
Detective Purcell grit his teeth. Finally, he threw his hands into the air. “Suit your damn selves. Just make sure not to get in my way, alright?”  
  
“Noted. By the way...” Professor Layton gestured toward Emmy.  
  
“Oh, right. Here, Detective-- we met a nice old couple who wanted to give you this.” Emmy tossed the Detective the bottle of wine they got from Gero and Aria at the dumpling stand.  
  
The Detective’s face suddenly contorted into a tight grimace as he caught the bottle. “What!? Those damn bootlickers just won’t drop it, huh?” he bellowed. “I don’t want their wine, I don’t want their dumplings, and I sure as hellfire don’t want their damn opinions!”   
  
“Their... opinions?” Emmy asked.  
  
He grunted. “Not that it’s any of your business, but they told me to give up my search. They said that Matar isn’t here anymore. And to that I say _poppycock_!” He pounded a fist against the wall. “I’m not giving up until I find that slippery little bastard, you hear? I've got half a mind to go over there and crack open this bottle against that cheeky old codger’s head until he gets that through his thick skull!"  
  
Detective Purcell spun on his heel. He stomped out, slamming the door behind him. They heard him grunt, then the clatter of a tray and the sound of something delicate shattering. There came a high pitched, “Sorry!” and finally, the retreating stomps ended with the loud crash of another door being slammed shut.  
  
With a sigh, Emmy opened the door and stepped out into the hallway to help the maid pick up the pieces of what was undoubtedly the teapot and cups.

The Professor turned to Luke. "Well, my boy, we've had quite an eventful night. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. There's no need to worry about me, Professor." He turned and climbed back into bed. The Professor sat on the edge of the mattress and helped him pull up the covers. After a moment, Luke looked up to him, tears welling up in his eyes. "I guess I do miss my mom and dad a little."  
  
The Professor smiled warmly. "That's wonderful," he mused. When Luke looked up at him with a scowl on his face, he elaborated. "Feelings like those are evidence that you cherish them. Take that feeling and hold it tight. Isn't it marvelous to find yourself capable of loving so deeply?"  
  
Luke said nothing. He looked down at the bedspread and rubbed his eyes vigorously with the back of his sleeve.

The Professor made a small sound as if suddenly remembering something. He stood up and walked to his trunk, then opened the latches with a click. He rummaged through it for a minute, muttering to himself. At last, he gave a small, "Aha!" and returned to Luke. When he sat down, he handed him a small, leather-bound journal.  
  
"Take this," he said. "Use it to write down your thoughts, your feelings, and any notes about our case, and when you return to Misthallery, you will have an exceptional memento to show your parents."

Luke took the journal and felt the texture of the cover. It was lightweight, and it had a pocket on the inside to hold a pen. The Professor had already scribbled some notes on the first few pages, but his writing was a completely illegible brand of cursive. "Thank you," he said, tucking it behind his pillow.

"Alright you two," Emmy said, entering the room with a smile. "We've had a long day. I think it's time to turn in for the night."

"Well said. Tomorrow will also doubtless be taxing; we will need all the energy we can muster."

And so, they all brushed their teeth, changed into their nightclothes, and were soon fast asleep either on a bed or, in Professor Layton's case, on the couch. And although they all agreed that they were tired and needed rest for the coming day, the Professor awoke in the middle of the night to a curious sensation. Between the sound of the wind through the trees outside, and Emmy's faint snoring, he could have sworn he heard another sound, much like the scratch of a pen on paper. It was so faint that the Professor might have dismissed it as a trick of the ear, except that he could also see the dim glow of the flashlight under Luke's blanket.

He smiled and listened for a while, then rolled over and went back to sleep. 


	4. Breakfast

_The dark apparition looms before Layton, its silhouette dimly backlit only by the fallen flashlight and the eerie glow from the car's red brake lights. It stands before him, blocking the entrance to the tunnel. Its long arms are outstretched, reaching toward him. It beckons him into its arms, but he stands firm. Forest surrounds him. It vibrates with the frantic movement of a thousand bodies watching, listening, jeering at him from the darkness behind the trees. They whisper his name, trying to egg him on, but he cannot take his eyes off the shadowy phantom._

_"Come," the apparition calls out to him gently. "Join me, and know everlasting life."_

_Layton chokes. He takes a deep breath and tries again. "I'm-- that's not what I came here for."_

_"Immortality, Hershel. Aren't you curious?"_

_With a click, it's jaw unhinges. Its mouth opens wide. It leans toward him, stretching bigger as it nears. There's nowhere to run. The excited murmur from behind the trees grows steadily more fevered. The silhouette will engulf him._

_There's nowhere to run._

**BOOM! CRASH!**

Professor Layton bolted upright, his heart pounding. He threw the coat he had been using as a blanket off himself, but his eyes struggled to focus. It was too bright. He blinked and squinted his tired eyes at the figures standing frozen in front of the open window.  
  
“Oops... sorry Professor,” a quiet whimper came from across the room.

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stared. Emmy and Luke stood in the middle of the room, a worried grimace on each of their faces. Unlike the Professor, they were already dressed in their day clothes.

After some hesitation, Emmy spoke. "I, uh... I was teaching Luke a little self-defense, and... we might have gotten just the teeniest bit carried away."

The Professor followed her gaze to where his trunk lay open and facedown in the middle of the floor; next to it lay a pile of clothes. Near that display lay some scattered books and the bookshelf that once held them. To one side of this scene, the morning sunlight glinted playfully over the shattered remains of what might have once been a lamp.

The Professor sighed. "Ah, I see. You two have been busy this morning. Perhaps we should clean this up before Leanne begins to regret having us as guests...."

"But look at what I can do now, Professor!" Luke exclaimed, determined to prove the worthwhileness of their morning exercises. Without warning, he swiftly kicked the back of Emmy's knee with all of his might. Her eyes widened in shock as she hit the ground. Luke jumped onto her back triumphantly, sending her face-first into the hardwood flooring. Emmy curled into a ball and gripped her leg, trying hard to hold back a choice string of swearwords. "See?" Luke said from atop her hip, an enormous grin on his rosy face. "This is how you beat a bad guy. Emmy showed me!"

"Luke," Emmy groaned through clenched teeth. "I thought we were all done with practice!"

"Oh my." The Professor scooted off the couch, picked Luke up, and set him down nearby, muttering something about it being 'not proper' to abruptly stomp on your instructor's calf and then stand on her debilitated figure. "Nevertheless, it looks as though you put a great deal of effort into mastering what Emmy has taught you. Well done. Be sure to thank her for her instruction later." He reached down and helped guide Emmy's limping form to the sofa.

Emmy sat and massaged her knee. After a small but remorseful, "I'm sorry," Luke and a very patient Professor stood the bookcase up and put the books back on the shelves while Emmy organized the clothes and other knickknacks into the trunk. After some time, Luke joined her while the Professor moved the sharp, clearly unsalvageable ceramic pieces into the trash can. By the time they had cleaned to the Professor's standard, it was nearly 8:00 am.

"Is it okay if I check downstairs to see if they're still serving breakfast?" Luke asked as he put the last mancala game piece back into its bag and into the Professor's trunk.

"That sounds like a grand idea, Luke. Please let us know what you find out." the Professor responded.

"You'd better thank your mum for those big puppy-dog eyes!" Emmy called out to Luke's retreating back, but he was already out the door. They could hear the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the staircase outside. When they faded, the Professor sat down on the sofa next to Emmy.

"Well, my dear, that certainly looked uncomfortable. How is the pain?"

Suddenly, Emmy snorted and began to laugh. "That kid," she blurted, her face buried in one hand. "He will never cease to amaze me."

The Professor was momentarily taken aback, but her laughter was infectious. A slow grin spread across his face. "The boy is a quick learner. Then again, he does have an exceptional instructor."

She waved away the compliment but beamed all the same. Her eyes glistened from laughter. "At least he seems to be feeling better than he was last night. I was pretty worried for a while."

"He does seem more chipper." He wiped a tear from Emmy's cheek with his thumb. "And with our combined guidance, he should come out of this a more confident and knowledgable young man. Now, how about that knee?"

"I'm feeling alright now, Professor. But can I ask about you? I noticed you were doing a little tossing and turning in your sleep this morning."

The Professor paused. He closed his eyes, folded his arms, and frowned. "Ah, that's right. I had the most peculiar dream. It was like I was drowning. I've never known anything like it."

"Yikes. Maybe you had too many dumplings last night?" Emmy said, watching his expression closely.

He chuckled. "Certainly possible. Now, on that note, I have a feeling we ought to go find Luke. I can't help but speculate that the reason for his continued absence has to do with the presence of food downstairs."

"There's that famous intuition at work again!" She laughed.

After the Professor changed his clothes, Emmy allowed him to take her arm and help her limping form out of their room. They slowly made their way down the stairs, past the Riddle family portraits, and across the foyer. They were just about to enter the sunroom when they saw the maid coming out of the kitchen. 

"Good morning sir, ma'am," she greeted. She had a tall plate of pancakes in hand, capped with fresh strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"Do you have any more of _that?_ " Emmy asked, excitedly pointing to the plate in Sienna's hand.

"Yes, ma'am, I can make you some. And you sir?"

"Just some toast and tea, if you don't mind."

Sienna curtsied and entered the sunroom after the pair. As the Professor helped Emmy into her seat, the maid served Luke the plate of pancakes, which he began to devour almost immediately. He paused only to say a quick 'hullo!' to his companions as they sat down at the long wooden table on either side of him. The maid poured the Professor a cup of hot tea; he thanked her and she curtsied again before darting off into the kitchen.

He breathed in the spicy aroma of the black tea. It filled his senses. A deep, satisfying warmth seemed to slowly permeate through his body. As he savored the smell, he glanced around the room. One of the walls was built almost entirely of glass, giving them a great view of the snow-topped fir trees surrounding the property. If he leaned to one side, the Professor could see a glimmer of torchlight through the trees from the next estate over. This wintery scene was underscored by the chilled air rolling off of the window panes in front of him and the warm air radiating off of the crackling fireplace in the living area behind him. He closed his eyes and took a long sip from the little cup.

“So how long have you been staying here?” Emmy’s cheerful voice rang out. The Professor opened his eyes. A frail-looking, wrinkled old man with a shock of white hair atop his leathery head was quietly drinking coffee in the corner. He sat in a wheelchair and watched the snow softly fall outside. He glanced over his shoulder at Emmy, scoffed, and turned back toward the window.

Nearby sat a middle-aged couple who looked confused as they scratched their heads and counted on their fingers.

“About a week, I’d wager.” A slim man with an enormous, fluffy beard turned to the woman beside him. His eyebrows were raised high on his head.

“Sounds right, love. Maybe ten days?” The small, chubby woman beside him hugged his arm and smiled at Emmy. “I'm Erica, and this is my husband."

"Harper Garnett. Nice to meet you, folks."

"I'm Emmy, and this is Luke and Professor Layton." She gestured to each. "What brings you two here?"  
  
Erica bounced in her seat and clapped her hands. "We are worldwide adventurers! It’s our lifelong purpose to visit every cool place in the world!”

"Well, I don't know about all _that_ , honey, but we have been to a lot of places." He counted on his fingers again. "...Tibet, Easter Island, India, Antarctica... and then when we heard about this place, we knew we had to come. We travel for work, you see, and we really do enjoy it." Harper fixed his glasses on his nose and tried to look professional, but he couldn't keep the corners of his mouth from turning up slightly.

"Oh, is that so? What do you do for a living, Mr. Garnett?" asked the Professor.

"Oh, please, call me Harper. Anyways, I'm a freelance photographer, and Erica is a journalist. We are well known in the publishing world. It's a meager living, but adventure always awaits!" He smiled and patted the camera hanging around his neck.

"Mrs. Riddle so generously offered for us to stay with her. It’s so beautiful here. We just love the quaintness and tranquility. Plus the fire shows are the best we’ve seen! And that’s coming from someone who has seen the fire festivals in Spain twice!" Erica giggled and hugged her husband's arm again.

"And how about you?" Harper asked, pushing his glasses up again.

"I teach archaeology at Gressenheller University in London--" 

"Ooo, how prestigious!" Erica once again bounced in her seat and clapped her hands. The vase in the center of the table wobbled. "What brings you lads here then? Were you drawn in by the festivities too?"

"We're actually looking for a colleague of mine," the Professor replied, holding tight to his teacup. "Lorenzo Matar. You haven't heard of him by any chance, have you?"

Harper scratched his beard. Erica put a pudgy hand to her cheek. 

"No, sorry, that name doesn't ring a bell." 

"Have you tried asking Mrs. Riddle?"

"Yes," the Professor replied. "Leanne and I have been corresponding regarding his disappearance. Evidently, he did stay here at the Riddle Manor while he was researching a local legend to do with immortality. He stayed here for about three weeks. After that, people who spoke with him claim he left for London, including Dr. Riddle, but if so, he never made it. It's been five weeks since he was due back at Gressenheller, but nobody has seen nor heard from him." 

Erica's shoulders drooped. "Wow, I'm sorry. That's so sad."

Harper stroked his beard. "I wish I could offer some advice, my friends."

"I appreciate your concern all the same," the Professor responded.

Luke, who had been, until now, concentrating on his pancakes, glanced up at the Professor's face. He was uncertain, but he imagined he could see a hint of defeat in his tired eyes. Emmy looked much the same way. Detective's Purcell's jeering, mocking tone floated to the forefront of his thoughts. Luke looked back down at his pancakes. 

Sienna came in and set a plate down in front of the Professor. He thanked her and began to silently chew on a slice of buttered toast. Luke watched her leave, then glanced out the window. Beneath a row of towering pine trees, he could see a couple of cars parked under a layer of snow. He took a deep breath.

“Um, Professor?” he said. His voice was barely audible.

“Yes, my boy?”

“Well, I was thinking, um... maybe we should try to look for his car? Or proof it left?”

The Professor looked down at him with an eyebrow raised. "Hmm, you may be onto something there, my boy." 

"Hey, good idea, Luke!" Emmy said, excited. "Maybe we can establish whether or not he was able to leave town, at the very least."

Luke looked up at his companions on either side of him. Emmy and the Professor were smiling. He smiled too as he breathed a sigh of relief. 

Just then, the maid came into the room with a tall stack of fluffy pancakes for Emmy. She grinned hungrily, thanked her, and dove in. Between bites, Emmy asked, "By the way, miss, do you know where Professor Matar parked his car while he was here?" 

She paused. As she placed a thin, little finger on her chin, her round eyes rolled up to ponder the ceiling. "Um, well, most people park their cars right out there." She pointed out the window. "But I know Professor Matar sometimes liked to drive his car around the town, so I'm not sure. Maybe you can ask Dr. Riddle?"

"Where might we find her at this hour?" the Professor asked. 

"I believe she went down to the Great Hall. Her daughter works there as a fire-keeper. She usually visits her before she goes to work at the office each morning."

Erica wiggled in her seat and clapped her hands. The table jostled and the cups and plates clinked together like wind chimes. "Oh, the Great Hall is gorgeous! You should go to meet her there. It's where they keep that huge fire burning year-round!" Erica turned to her husband. "Oh, this place is so pretty! I sure wish we could stay here forever."  
  
_BANG_.

The two groups turned to look at the frail old man seated in a wheelchair at the far end of the table. His spotted skin was wrinkled and leathery, and a tuft of white hair crowned his otherwise bald head. He had slapped the table so hard that the sound seemed to resonate in the resulting silence. He slowly lifted his hand; the sound of his sweaty skin peeling off its surface filled the room. Finally free, he pointed at Erica.

“You _be careful what you wish for, little lady.”_

Emmy was the first to respond. "What the heck does that mean, old man?"

He slowly turned to look at Emmy, his dark eyes boring through her. He pulled his lips back to reveal a wide, toothless grin. His body shook with age. His lips trembled, but he said no more.


	5. The Bobbies

“ _What do you mean you haven’t found him yet?!”_

A loud crash sent a flock of birds flying towards the clouds. The Professor, Emmy, and Luke froze in the middle of the otherwise quiet cobblestone street. That booming voice was already too familiar. Emmy beckoned the others to follow; they moved closer to the little building and the commotion coming from within it. The small, unkept office was sandwiched between two larger structures and obscured with vines. 

Through the wooden front door, they heard a tiny voice apologizing. “I’m sorry sir— it's just that we only have a couple of officers in this town, myself included, and we were in the woods all night. We couldn’t find any new information about your guy.” 

“Well, keep looking!” The voice bellowed. They heard another loud crash, followed by a whimper. “And don’t put the mockers on 'till you find the ruddy bastard, d'you hear me?!”

Without warning, the door flew open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang, and Detective Purcell barreled out, nearly colliding straight into Emmy and the Professor. The Detective stopped in his tracks. He reared back; his face turned beet red. “ _Layton!_ ” he barked, sputtering like a boiling tea kettle. “You dirty scoundrel! Eavesdropping now, eh? Hoping to watch me fail?” 

“I assure you,” the Professor replied, “we wish for nothing more than your utmost success, Detective. However, we would like to ask--”

“--About Matar? Well, don’t bother asking these guys, honest!” He jerked his thumb toward the little police office. “These wee bobbies are bloody skivers, the whole lot of them! This guy ‘ere looks so well rested he could join a beauty pageant!” With that, he shoved past the Professor, Emmy, and Luke, nearly knocking the little one to the ground. He stomped away muttering ferociously about the state of the world in general and his place in it.

“The nerve of that guy!” said Luke, dusting off his sleeves. “What makes him so high and mighty?"

"We ought to teach him a thing or two about being a gentleman, right Luke?” Emmy asked. 

Luke nodded fiercely. "Maybe it's time to put my training into practice!" 

"Ah," the Professor said, touching the brim of his hat. "Do you mean my training, or Emmy's?"

Luke paused for a moment and considered the question. "BOTH!" he finally decided. 

Chuckling softly, the Professor pushed open the squeaky old door to the office and stood aside for the others to enter. The interior of the tiny room was stuffy and humid. Emmy and Luke did their best to shuffle aside to allow room for the Professor to enter alongside them.

The policeman behind the counter groaned. “So you guys are looking for him too? He must have been very important. I’m sorry but we truly have no leads,” he whimpered. His eyes were full of tears. 

“Don’t worry, we don’t intend to keep you for long. We understand Professor Matar has been quite elusive,” the Professor replied. When the little officer’s breathing steadied, he continued to speak. “May I ask a question, good sir?” 

“Well, yes, but I'm not sure if I can answer it.”

“We understand that Professor Matar was searching for a curious item which is supposed to grant one the power of eternal life. Would you happen to know of such a rumor, or know where we could find more information about this object?” 

“Eternal life?” The policeman looked incredulous. “I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about that. I’m pretty sure if something that could make you immortal were laying around here, we’d all know about it!”

“Ah, yes, I would think so,” the Professor replied lightly. “In any case, thank you for your time. We know you must be busy.” 

“You don’t know the half of it,” he sighed. He slumped down in his seat and buried his face in his hands. “Lorenzo Matar is the fourth person to have gone missing within the last year. I wish that detective could understand that we have other cases, y’know?”

Emmy raised an eyebrow. “Wow, you guys really have your work cut out for you. Can you tell us more about these disappearances?”

The policeman shrugged his shoulders. “Well, they’re all out-of-towners, like you guys. Actually, there seem to be more and more new people lately, for some reason. They just wandered in and got lost, I guess?” 

Emmy frowned. “That doesn’t seem very likely. This town isn’t very big, after all.” 

The officer looked ready to collapse. “Well, the forest here really is dense.... Some people are drawn to its beauty and think they can just go hiking all willy-nilly. I’ve heard of people drowning in the lake too. But who really knows? It’s just me and one other officer here, and we’re pretty stretched thin, to be honest.”

“Finding the missing people with so few resources must seem like a herculean task. If there is anything we can do to help, please do not hesitate to let us know,” the Professor said. 

"Life was just so much easier before those dang festivals got popular," he murmured. 

They bid their goodbyes and stepped back out onto the cobblestone street, shutting the creaky door behind them. When they were safely out of earshot of the timid policeman, Luke burst out: “ _Four_ _murders--_?”

“Hang on now, four _disappearances--_ ” 

“--But _four_!? How is that possible? That means there could be a serial killer on the loose!” Luke wrapped his arms around himself and shuddered. 

Emmy put one arm around Luke and the other around the Professor, pulling them into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry, lads. Just stick by me, and I’ll make sure no harm comes to either of you!” 

The Professor laughed. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

“I’ll tell you one thing,” Luke said, wiggling out of her strong grasp. “I’m definitely not going anywhere near that forest! Or that lake!” 

Just then, a man wearing an overly large t-shirt and shorts clumsily bumped into them, then took a step back, startled. “Oh, sorry,” he said, blinking fast. His voice was slurred.

“No worries,” said Emmy. “But, um... do you need any help?” 

“Huh?” he asked. “Whaddya mean?”

“Well, you’re standing in the snow in a T-shirt. And it’s on backward.” 

“Oh,” he said, looking down at himself. “Nah, I’m alright. Or, I will be once I get into bed.” Without another word, he stumbled away. 

“Professor, that guy smelled bad,” Luke said, holding his nose. 

“Boy, there seem to be a lot of hungover people this morning.” Emmy glanced around at the passing faces. “Do you suppose they were out partying all night?”

“It seems excessive, but not outside of the realm of possibility,” replied the Professor, his arms folded. “It would also appear as though there is some substance to the claim that the alcohol here is reputably strong.”

Luke wrinkled his nose. “I'll never be able to understand why some adults like to poison themselves like that.” 

Eventually, they came to the center of the town. It was bustling with people moving through the open-air market. They walked by a fruit stand, a butcher’s shop, and a humble kiosk selling books. As they passed a woman selling pottery, she held a handcrafted vase up and waved. The Professor nodded politely, but they moved on. 

The sweet, sugary smell of freshly baked goods wafted by them. Luke felt his mouth water. "Professor, can we get a snack?" 

"My word!" the Professor chuckled. "Didn't I just see you wolf down a stack of pancakes?"

"We have a growing boy on our hands, Professor!" Emmy smiled wide and looked around. "How about some cupcakes?"

The Professor hummed. "How about something a little healthier?"

Luke gasped and pointed at a food stand nearby. "How about some popcorn?"

"Yeah! That sounds great!" With that, Emmy and Luke dashed off. With a sigh and a grumble about the advantages of salubrious sustenance, the Professor followed behind.

A moment later, the cashier thanked them for their patronage, and they were on their way once more. "Aren't you going to get some, Professor?" Luke asked through a mouthful of cinnamon-sugar popcorn. 

"It does look rather tasty, now that I'm getting a good look at it. I'm sure Emmy will share with me." 

She laughed. "You're going to have to fight me for it, Professor!" 

Luke suddenly stopped. Emmy and the Professor nearly bumped into him. They looked up. A grand, cathedral-style building adorned with flying buttresses on either side, stood in the center of the market. Above its immense, mahogany doors shone an enormous, round, stained glass window depicting a glowing fire surrounded by twinkling stars. 

“That must be the Great Hall,” Emmy said. "That's where Sienna said that Dr. Riddle might be."

"That's right. Let's go inside, shall we?"

They climbed the steps. The huge double doors were wide open revealing a vast, cavernous room inside. An inviting warmth radiated from its depths. Emmy, Luke, and the Professor looked at each other, then stepped inside.

The entire building appeared to be made up of only one giant chamber, with high ceilings supported by stone arches. The morning light shining through the stained glass window glittered colorfully on the floor. Toward the middle of the room stood the enormous bowl they saw at the fire festival the night before, and inside of it burned the gargantuan fire. However, aside from its massive size, it appeared as any ordinary fire. 

“Wasn’t this fire burning white yesterday? I wonder why it looks orange?” Luke asked as they approached the pyre. He put a hand up to shield his face from the warmth.

“That’s because we’re not burning anything special with it today,” a low voice replied from the corner of the room. A young woman dressed in a long white robe and hood approached from behind the fire. Her long dark hair framed her face, adorned with a warm, beautiful smile. “You must not be from around here, my friends. How may I help you today?”

The Professor introduced Emmy, Luke, and himself. “I’m sorry to bother you, but we were looking for someone. And, if I’m not mistaken, the person we’re after happens to be your mother.”

Emmy and Luke exchanged glances. “I’m sorry,” the woman said, placing a delicate hand to her breast, “but have we met?” 

“We just arrived in Eidolon last night and have been guests at Dr. Leanne Riddle's beautiful estate. I believe I saw your portrait hanging on the wall, amongst others. You are Nia Riddle, are you not?” 

“Yes, that’s right,” she replied. “My job is to tend to this fire you see here. Anyways, I’m afraid you’ve just missed my mother. She was here only a moment ago, but had to leave.” 

“How unfortunate,” said the Professor. 

“That’s kind of strange,” Emmy said with a frown. “I’m surprised we didn’t see her on our way up here.” 

The woman’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second but returned an instant later. “You must not have seen her. The marketplace is very busy this morning, after all.” 

“Well, before we go, may we ask a few questions?” She nodded, and the Professor continued. “Could you tell us a little about the significance of this fire?” 

“Well, my friends,” Nia said, spreading her hands open, “Isn’t the nature of your business with my mother urgent?” 

“Not particularly,” replied Emmy. “We can listen to your story.” 

“In that case,” she said, “make yourselves comfortable, and I shall tell you about the history of the Eidolon Fire.” 

Despite the warmth radiating from the fire, Luke felt a shiver up his spine. Although Nia’s smile was glowing, her eyes were cold. 


	6. The Great Hall

Nia Riddle looked strikingly similar to her mother, the Professor decided. Not because of her features, mind. What little of her face he could see under her white hooded cloak was decidedly different from Leanne’s. Her face was rounder, her hair darker. No, it had more to do with the way she carried herself as she paced before him and his two companions. Silhouetted by the light radiating from the pyre, Nia glided elegantly to and fro across the floor as she contemplated what she would say to them. 

The Professor looked around. Nearby, another fire-keeper and a few townspeople conversed softly, their voices barely audible over the crackling of the tremendous flames. The Great Hall seemed to be made of one enormous, round room with a tall, arching ceiling. It was filled with rows of long benches and appeared much like a cathedral. However, instead of facing the rear of the building, the seats all faced the center of the room where Great Fire burned tall in its colossal stone bowl. At Nia’s request, Professor Layton, Emmy, and Luke were seated before her on the foremost pew. Luke, seemingly happy to get out of the cold outside, had already taken off his scarf and coat. He stretched out his arms and legs to bask in the warmth.

Finally, Nia stopped in front of the Professor and regarded him, touching a delicate finger to her cheek. “Since you seem to know about my family, let me ask you this: what do you know of a man named Emmanuel Riddle?” 

The Professor closed his eyes, as though searching his thoughts. “Hm,” he said after a moment. “Not much. I did see his portrait hanging on the wall of the Riddle Manor, however. He and another archaeologist, David Hartmann, were pictured together. If I recall correctly, they discovered the remains of an ancient civilization which once called this land it’s home.”

Nia smiled. She clasped her hands in front of her. “You’ve quite a mind, Professor,” she crooned. “Yes, they discovered the once-lost ruins of Polaris, and by so doing also discovered a certain fire.”

Luke looked from one to the other, perplexed. “Fire? How did they discover fire?” 

“They didn’t discover any ordinary fire, little one,” Nia answered. “They discovered _this_ fire.” She turned to face the blaze behind her and held her arms out as though to embrace it. “The ancient Polarians were masters of fire, you see. They learned how to control it, how to nurture it, and how to utilize it.”

By this time, Luke had pulled his journal out of his satchel and was hastily scribbling notes. “ _Ancient Polaris,”_ he muttered as he wrote. “ _Masters of fire...._ But how did Hartmann and Riddle find this fire? Do you mean to say it was hidden somewhere?” 

“Yes, that’s correct. It was actually hidden deep in a cave at the edge of town.”

“Is that possible?” he asked, looking from Nia to the Professor. Disbelief and skepticism were etched in his dark, round eyes. “Doesn’t a fire need oxygen? Fuel?” 

Nia looked amused. “What an intelligent young man. Yes, typically fire does need those things to burn. However, the ancient chemists of Polaris were quite brilliant. They created a profound formula that allowed a fire to burn nigh indefinitely on a very small supply of material. It was crucial to their survival in the cold, you see. With this formula, they could keep a single fire going for years. They shared the fire with the people of Polaris and they used it for warmth, to cook with, to heat their baths….”

“It sounds like a very valuable recipe to have,” Emmy ventured. She took one last bite of her popcorn, then crumpled up the paper bag. 

Nia darted forward to stand in front of Emmy. "It is _extremely_ valuable, so please, do not desecrate it by throwing your trash into it."

"Chill, lady-- I wasn't going to do that. But I don't get it. If this thing is so valuable, why haven’t we heard of it before? Something like that should be famous around the world!” 

“Well,” Nia responded, “It’s a bit complex. The formula to the Polarian Fire was the pride of the people. Unfortunately, however, soon after its conception, jealousy and rage broke out amongst the nearby kingdoms. They demanded Polaris share their formula, but they refused. When spies and saboteurs failed, the other countries finally declared war on Polaris. The battle lasted for decades, but rather than give up, the Polarians decided to seal the fire and its formula deep underground, where it has been burning for over a century. Eventually, Polaris was destroyed, but their fire burned on in secret.”

“Which brings us back to our original topic: David Hartmann and Emmanuel Riddle,” the Professor said. 

Nia nodded. “Those brave men discovered the fire and succeeded in analyzing and reconstructing its formula, thus keeping the fire alive. And that is what you see before you.”

“So this fire has been burning for over a hundred years then?” Luke asked, his eyes wide. “That’s amazing!” 

“Those ancient Polarians sound like greedy hounds,” Emmy muttered to Luke under her breath. 

He frowned, nodded, then scribbled some more notes into his notebook. “So, what’s the formula, then?” he asked Nia. “A recipe like that could help a _lot_ of people all around the world!”

Nia's smile faltered. “Sadly, that information cannot be divulged. The formula and this fire were sacred to the ancient Polarians, and they are sacred to us as well.” After a moment’s thought, she continued: “Of course, that doesn’t mean you aren’t welcome to enjoy the Great Fire. All are encouraged to experience its life-giving warmth.” 

Emmy looked at the Professor with an eyebrow raised, but Nia seemed not to notice. The Professor folded his arms and rubbed his chin. “And so you honor them and this fire during the Fire Festival each year?” he asked. 

Nia nodded, a small smile returning. “Each year we hold the week-long festival to honor the Polarians and pay tribute to their ancient wisdom. We also recognize our dear founders, David Hartmann and Emmanuel Riddle, without whom none of this would be possible.”

“Well, we’ve really enjoyed what we've seen,” Emmy said. 

“Yes indeed,” the Professor added. “Last night’s display was simply breathtaking.” 

Nia beamed. “I’m so glad to hear you say that. We work very hard to put on a good show. And if you’ll forgive me for boasting, I must add that the last day of the festival is always the most spectacular.” 

“Oh, wow! When is the last day?” Luke asked.

“Tomorrow.” Nia’s grin spread wide across her face, her pearly white teeth glinting in the flickering firelight. 

“We’ll be sure not to miss it,” the Professor replied. “I’m certain it will be an amazing sight.”

The Great Hall was beginning to fill with patrons. They stood around the fire and seated themselves on the benches to enjoy a reprieve from the cold air outside. Nearby, the other fire-keepers began lighting torches for patrons to take home. 

“It’s getting quite busy. Do you have any other questions before I go?” Nia asked. 

“Just one. We are searching for a colleague of mine,” the Professor said. “Lorenzo Matar, a professor at Gresenheller University in London. Have you heard of him, by any chance?” 

Nia sighed. “You three are the first outsiders I’ve met in a long while. What does he look like?” 

The Professor described his appearance. “He is 31 years of age. Tall, with dark hair, light skin, and green--”

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen anyone like that,” she said. “But I’ll be certain to ring for you if I do.” 

“What about any abandoned cars?” Luke asked. “Have you seen any of those?”

Nia raised an eyebrow. “No, I haven’t seen that either. I’m sorry to disappoint, but I must be off. It must be snowing again.” 

“It was nice to meet you,” the Professor said. “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us.” 

“The pleasure was mine,” she replied. “I’m sure this won’t be the last time we meet.” With a smile and a nod, she left to help the other fire-keepers. Together they continued to distribute the torches among the other patrons. Nia bowed to an elderly woman and helped her take a seat on a bench near the fire. 

Emmy watched her for a moment, then turned toward Luke and the Professor. She folded her arms and slouched down into her seat. “Well, now what?” she groaned. 

“We just keep running into dead end after dead end,” Luke murmured. 

The Professor smiled and chuckled softly. Luke and Emmy turned toward him, startled. “No way. Don’t tell me you got something out of all that?” Emmy asked. 

“Perhaps,” the Professor replied. “Put your coats back on and follow me.” 


	7. A Ferret in the Bush

“Why are we back here?” asked Luke.

Soft snow fluttered gently around them as he, Emmy, and Professor Layton stood once more before the Riddle Manor. Colorful stringed lights twinkled from the edge of the sloping roof’s curved tiles. It looked like someone had tried to attach the lights to the second story as well, but had given up halfway through. The lights dangled from the corner, swaying in the breeze. Despite the birds singing nearby, the gothic manor looked almost as eerie in the daylight as it did in the darkness the night prior. Luke pulled his coat closer around himself and looked up at his mentors.

The Professor touched the brim of his tophat as he regarded the old home. “Well, my boy, Leanne is likely to be out for the rest of the day, so we should take the opportunity to learn more about the one place we know Professor Matar to have stayed.” He walked toward the side of the house.

To Luke, there didn’t seem to be much to look at, but the Professor seemed to find some interest in examining the soil beneath a nearby fern. The snow was light and sparse enough for him to be able to check the mud in several places. Once satisfied, he continued a few paces further and placed a hand on the old brickwork which constituted the side of the house. He looked up as he ran his hand over the wall. Luke followed his gaze. Although the house was notably less spooky in the daylight, it still had an unsettling air about it. The Riddle Manor almost looked as though it was pieced together with parts of other houses. Luke tried to suppress the image of Frankenstein’s monster in his mind, and instead went to stand by Emmy, who was eyeing the fir trees around them with some curiosity.

She folded her arms across her chest. After a moment, she said, “You know, I think I’ll go search the forest. I want to check it for tire tracks before the snow gets too thick. Maybe I’ll be able to find evidence of Professor Matar’s car, like you said.”

“By yourself?” Luke asked, his eyes wide. “But-- the policeman this morning-- he said people have gotten lost in there, never to return!”

“Don’t worry, I promise I won’t go far.”

“Great idea, Emmy," the Professor said. "Meet me back here when you’re done.”

“Are you coming along, little buddy?” Emmy looked down at Luke standing beside her and gave him a toothy grin.

Luke, suddenly faced with a choice, looked quickly from the house to the forest and back again. Should he help the Professor look around this ugly, gothic mansion? Or should he help Emmy search for tire tracks? He looked toward the forest. Unknown creatures were undoubtedly waiting for him in there. Even the long, gnarled branches of the nearest trees seemed to reach out for him, intent on plucking him off the ground and devouring him whole. As ominous as the house was, the forest was decidedly worse, and so he darted back over to the Professor’s side.

With a smile, a wave, and a “Be back soon!” Emmy turned away to enter the woods.

Luke watched her depart with guilt churning deep in his gut. The Professor placed a warm, comforting hand on his shoulder and drew him close. “I’m glad you stayed with me, Luke,” the Professor said. “I’ll certainly need your help with this next part.”

“Really?” Luke asked, a glimmer of hope returning. “What do you need me to do?”

The Professor pointed toward a bush behind the house. It looked to Luke to be an ordinary elderberry bush, totally unremarkable in every way. But then, as though on cue, a high pitched wail emitted from within it.

“W-w-what was that?” Luke stammered, taking a step back. 

The Professor walked over to the bush. “I believe,” he said, pushing the branches to one side, “there's an animal trapped in here.”

Luke stared. As the Professor said, there was indeed an animal trapped in the bush. Or, to be more specific, the animal was ensnared in a cage meant to catch vermin. The creature itself looked like a long, thin cat wearing a little dark mask. It had tiny, round ears atop its fuzzy face. It cowered in the corner of the cage, shivering and whimpering.

“It’s a polecat, I believe. Can you speak to it? Ask it if it’s alright?”

Luke took a breath to steady himself. However scared he was, the creature was undoubtedly more so. He warily approached. It squeaked again, then arched its back and hissed. Its brown fur stood on end. He bent down to be closer to its level. “It’s OK, little fellow,” Luke said, trying not to sound nervous. “We’re here to help. Are you hurt?”

The polecat timidly looked at Luke, fear in its black eyes. Slowly, it relaxed its stance. It shook its head. Luke allowed it to sniff his outstretched hand. He turned back toward the Professor and smiled, relieved. He said, “I don’t think it’s hurt, I think it’s just scared. Can you unlock the cage?”

“I believe so. Just give me a moment….” Just as Luke had suspected, the lock on the cage was outfitted with a puzzle. After a few seconds, he heard a loud ‘click,’ and the lock came off the cage. “Aha! There we go,” the Professor said with delight.

Luke lifted the door on the cage. “It’s okay, you can come out now,” he said. “We won’t hurt you.”

The polecat looked at the two inquisitive humans and hesitantly came forward. Once clear of the cage, it bolted toward the forest. It paused to look back at the two of them still seated on the ground by the elderberry bush. Then, it darted off again.

“Well, that was definitely odd,” said the Professor, placing a hand on his knee to prop himself up.

“I’ve never met a wild polecat before!” Luke said excitedly. "Like a mammalian snake!”

“Yes, indeed. Though I can’t help but wonder why a trap was set here in the first place.”

“I dunno, Professor. Maybe for raccoons? Either way, I hope Leanne doesn’t kill whatever animals she catches in it.”

The Professor gave a noncommital hum, and the two of them set off around the other side of the residence. Lacking any other interesting details, Luke and the Professor soon made their way to the front, where they spotted Emmy at the edge of the forest. She approached them, and Luke immediately told her all about the fancy little polecat they helped set free. She smiled as he told the story.

“And how about you, Emmy? Did you find anything of note?” the Professor asked.

“Not really. I couldn’t find anything to suggest a car had driven around the forest nearby, but I suppose that fact itself is worth noting. And the snow is getting heavier-- it makes it difficult to search for tire tracks. I did, however, find the Garnetts’ and Detective Purcell’s cars.” She shrugged and waved a hand toward the little lot to the side of the house. There stood two sedans side-by-side and partially covered in snow. 

Luke looked defeated. The Professor quickly added, “Of course, that doesn’t mean Professor Matar’s vehicle isn’t still somewhere in town. After all, the Laytonmobile is still parked in the lot just outside of the tunnel."

"Also, I couldn't find a car belonging to the Riddles."

"Really!" Luke already looked more chipper. He took out his notebook and scribbled some notes in it.

“Well, boys," Emmy said, "shall we go inside and search for more clues?"

“Good thinking, Emmy. Luke, will you lead the way?”

Luke, still beaming, cheerfully bounded up the steps toward the front door. It was unlocked. He opened the door and stood to one side to allow the others through. Emmy thanked him (“What a polite little gentleman!”) and went inside. The Professor smiled and tipped his hat in gratitude, but before he stepped inside, he felt a peculiar sensation. He paused as he stepped over the threshold, and turned around. He scanned the street in front of the house, but there was nothing out of the ordinary. He was about to turn back toward the house when something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. There, on the edge of the forest, stood a figure clad from head to toe in all white. A hood obscured their face. After a moment, the figure stepped back and disappeared behind the trees.


	8. The Key

Somehow, the Riddle Manor seemed even bigger and more ominous than before. It was dead silent inside the old house without any of its usual occupants milling about. There was no sign of Leanne, Detective Purcell, the Garnetts, the maid, or even that weird old man in the wheelchair. To Luke, each footstep he took seemed to resonate off the banisters three stories above the foyer. In the still darkness of the entryway, the silence was palpable. 

“Well, where should we go first?” Emmy whispered at last. 

The Professor touched the brim of his hat. “I suppose we’ll start at the bottom and work our way up,” he replied, quietly. “Remember, our goal is to find anything that will give us some clue as to what Professor Matar did while he was here, and where he could have gone.” 

“Right,” Emmy and Luke whispered in unison. 

The trio carefully moved through the foyer and into the living area. It was decorated with many expensive-looking items from around the world, including the African masks and the Chinese vase they saw the night before. Luke walked past the baby grand piano to check the leather couches for anything which may have fallen between the cushions. Emmy examined a side table. She pulled out the drawers and searched inside. There was nothing of interest: just a pair of reading glasses and a flint. She walked over to the fireplace. Above it hung the enormous oil painting of people dancing around a campfire. She glared at it for a moment, then bent down to check inside the fireplace. She slid her arm along the inside, then up and around. When that yielded nothing, she kneeled down and stuck her head inside.

“What are you doing?” asked Luke, hopping off the couch to stand by her side.

Emmy coughed. “Nothing, I just-- I read it in a book once. People hide their valuables in the fireplace sometimes.” Her voice echoed up through the chimney. She backed out and sat on her feet, coughing hard. “But this one definitely gets used too often for anyone to hide any valuables in here.” 

Meanwhile, the Professor stood before the long line of bookshelves. It was packed from wall-to-wall with books and baubles. There were candles, bells, fossils, and colorful rocks, among other things. Most importantly to the Professor, however, were the books. He inspected the titles. Leanne had quite a large and varied collection. There were books on every subject, from flying planes to playing golf. There was also an assortment of tomes on world cultures. However, it seemed as though most of the books were merely fiction novels. 

“What’s the matter?” Emmy asked, dusting soot off her sleeves as she approached. 

“Curious,” the Professor replied. “I never would have presumed Leanne to be a lover of fantasies.” 

Emmy raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we supposed to be looking for clues?” 

“Wow, Professor,” Luke said, suddenly appearing at his elbow. “It didn’t take you long to get off track, did it?” 

The Professor chuckled under his breath. “You’re right. Let us move on.” 

They looked at the kitchen, but there was nothing of interest in there. The sunroom, where they had eaten breakfast hours ago, was also devoid of any clues. After a quick glimpse into the bathroom, they climbed the staircase to the second floor. There they found a single, spacious room which appeared to be some kind of study. 

“Cor!” Luke exclaimed. “Look at all this equipment!” Beakers, graduated cylinders, balances, and scales lined the shelves at the rear of the room near some picks and brushes. Luke ran past the tools in favor of the long telescope beside them. He put his eye to the scope and squealed. “I bet you can see the moon with this thing!”

“It would be nice to have a study as well furnished as this, huh Professor?” Emmy said. She looked around in admiration, then grinned fondly at her top-hatted companion. 

“It is certainly a beautiful and well-kept space, isn’t it?” he replied.

The room was spacious and tidy, albeit somewhat dusty. There was a transportable chalkboard on wheels off to one side, and a wide, comfortable-looking couch on the other. At the back of the room stood a long oak desk. Above it was a wide window. The Professor approached it and looked outside. The weak autumn sun was beginning to disappear behind the tallest fir trees. The forest seemed to dance in the swirling snow. 

The Professor looked down at the desk. A small cat-like skull sat beside a compass and a few other knickknacks. He picked it up and turned it over in his hands. It had small but sharp fangs. He set it down and picked up a leather-bound book that was lying nearby. Unlike the skull, it was not covered in dust. The Professor carefully opened the cover; a photo slipped out and fluttered to the floor. He bent down and picked it up. It was an old black-and-white photograph of David Hartmann and Emmanuel Riddle. They were standing together, each with an arm around the other. Riddle held what looked like a lit candle in one hand. They each boasted wide smiles. 

Emmy had been looking through the drawers of the desk when she noticed the Professor nose-deep in a book. He was rubbing his chin-- a sure sign that he had stumbled across something which piqued his interest. She straightened up. “What do you have there, Professor?” she asked.

“I believe this is Emmanuel Riddle’s journal.”

Luke abandoned the telescope to join the others. The Professor set the book on the desk so everyone could see it. He leafed through the pages. In looping cursive script, it detailed the discovery of the Polarian ruins and ancient fire. From what they could tell, it mirrored the story told by Nia earlier that day. There were a few other photographs too, mostly of Hartmann or Riddle working in labs or walking through a dense forest. 

“Too bad it doesn’t say anything about the recipe behind that ‘Great Fire,’” Emmy mused aloud as the Professor neared the end of the book. 

“Yeah, that would be a great thing to be able to share with the world!” Luke added.

“Hm, what’s this?” On the last page was a crumpled scrap of paper. The Professor carefully unfolded it. It was an old newspaper clipping from the _London Tales._ The title read: _Devastating Fire Sweeps Over the Northeast: No Survivors._

Luke, who couldn’t read quite as quickly as the two adults beside him, looked up from the article at their seemingly mortified faces. “What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“My word,” the Professor said softly. “According to this, there was a fire in this area some fifty years ago which resulted in the deaths of over four-hundred people.” 

“How terrible,” Emmy said. Luke nodded in agreement. 

Suddenly, they heard the front door open and shut downstairs. The Professor tiptoed to the banister and peered over it to see the housemaid cross the foyer on the first floor and enter the hallway. Sienna was carrying a large bag full of groceries in each arm. One of the bags tipped over and an onion and a few potatoes spilled out. They could hear her mutter something in frustration. Seemingly out of sheer determination, she kneeled down, set a bag on her lap to free one hand, and picked up the offending produce. Without missing a beat, she tossed them into the bag and continued down the hall. Soon, they could hear movement in the kitchen below them. 

“If we are going to complete our search for clues, we should probably try not to alert anyone of our presence here until we’re finished,” the Professor whispered as he gestured for Luke and Emmy to follow him upstairs. 

Reluctantly, Emmy and Luke tucked the article back into Riddle’s journal and set it down on the desk to follow behind the Professor. As they climbed the staircase, Luke looked up at the wall where the Riddle family portraits loomed down from above. Most were paintings of glaring, imposing faces that he did not recognize. Then, he spotted a photograph of Nia, Leanne, and a man standing side-by-side. Luke didn’t recognize the man. He wondered whether he was Nia’s father. Luke squinted at the old photograph. Curiously, although Nia’s appearance was similar to their view of her today, Leanne appeared to be much younger in the photograph. Her face was free from all but a few wrinkles. 

"Luke, are you coming?" Emmy asked from the topmost step. Startled out of his reverie, Luke skittered up to the third-floor landing. 

When he reached the two adults, he noticed a look of confusion on their faces. Emmy crossed her arms and said, “This staircase ends here, but there are definitely more rooms above us, right?” 

“I believe so,” the Professor responded. “From the outside, it certainly looked as if there should be at least a few more stories to this home. Keep your eyes open for another staircase as we continue our investigation.” 

With a look of stern resolution in her eye, Emmy marched over to the first of the many doors lining this hallway. She put her hand around the doorknob and twisted it, careful not to make much noise. 

It was locked. 

“ _Drat!”_

To their dismay, the second room was locked as well. They gave a cursory look about the bathroom, but couldn’t find anything interesting there. They moved on. The next room belonged to them and looked the same as had when they left it this morning. Emmy could feel her blood pressure rising as their progress continued to stagnate. Fortunately for her, the next room was not locked. She quickly pushed the door open and entered. 

The curtains were drawn shut, but even in the darkness, the room looked strikingly similar to their own. The beds, sofa, and chairs were identical to the ones in the room they were staying in. Even the layout was the same. Only the artwork was different, the Professor mused as he glanced around. On the floor close by lay an open suitcase with a few shirts and some camera equipment haphazardly strewn around it.

“I’m guessing this room belongs to the Garnetts,” Emmy said, carefully stepping over a supine tripod near the door. She turned to Luke, who was still standing in the doorway. 

“Hey, so….” Luke rubbed his hands together nervously. “Isn’t it bad to snoop around? I know we’re looking for clues about Professor Matar, but isn’t it considered an invasion of privacy to look into someone else’s room?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll respect their privacy by not going through their luggage. But, I think we should look around everywhere else while we have the chance. You never know what we might run into--"

"Ah," the Professor uttered softly from the other side of the room. Emmy and Luke turned to see him crouching near the dresser, examining something on the floor. He reached out toward them and held out a small keyring. Three keys dangled from an old, rusted carabiner. The number 136 was etched into one of them. "I recognize the bow of this key, the Professor said, feeling along its top ridge with a finger. There was a hint of sadness in his tone. "This looks like mine." 

Luke and Emmy watched, wide-eyed, as the Professor reached into his pocket. After a moment, he produced his own set of keys. One, in particular, caught their eye: it was long, thick, and shone with a golden-bronze hue. It looked nearly identical to the one the Professor held in his other hand. 

"It's an office key from Gressenheller," Emmy whispered. 

"Indeed. And, if I were to wager a guess, I'd say this key appears to be for a home, and this one--" he held up a silver key, "--to a vehicle." 

Emmy and Luke looked from the keys to the Professor, and then to each other. 

"He's still here." 


	9. A Hike through the Manor

The Professor smoothed a hand over his breast pocket. There, sitting snugly within his coat, lay Professor Matar’s keyring. Figuratively speaking, it was the key to solving this mystery, or so the Professor concluded. If only they could find his car. But there was no sense in leaving the manor until it was thoroughly investigated. Therefore, they continued to hike through yet another long, dusty hallway. Lost in thought, the Professor narrowly avoided colliding into a cobweb as he followed Emmy through a low door frame and into another empty room. The third floor of the Riddle Manor proved to be difficult to navigate with its winding halls and varied levels, but they were determined to find a way onto the fourth floor and continue their search.

Suddenly, Luke froze, nearly sending Emmy and the Professor crashing into him. He pointed to the last door at the end of the hall. The door itself looked entirely unremarkable to the two adults. However, to Luke, who was at just the right height to have a very clear view of the world from the altitude of a doorknob, noticed that some looked more worn than others. And so, when they approached the end of the hall, he ran up to the particularly shiny and somewhat dented doorknob and declared that they should try to open it.

Emmy shrugged. They had tried so many other doors, and the fact that they had not been met with much success thus far only meant that they ought to keep exploring. Still, she was slightly startled to find the door unlocked, and even more shocked to see that it opened to a long, narrow staircase. With a “Nice job, Luke!” and an “Excellent work, my boy!” the two adults followed the little blue child up the flight of stairs and onto the fourth-floor landing.

Right away, they could tell that the fourth floor did not look over the foyer, as the previous three floors did. And yet, it had less floor space overall. They quickly discovered that it was due to a particularly large balcony. Emmy pressed her forehead against the glass of the French door leading outside and rattled the knob, but it was locked. She craned her neck but could only see a few chairs and some potted plants.

Their examination of the fourth floor bore the discovery of another office, which was much smaller than the one on the second floor. This one was full of financial documents, real estate paperwork, and journals presumably kept by Leanne. They glanced over a few papers but didn’t find anything related to Professor Matar. Behind the next door was a well-kept but meager bedroom. A photograph on the bed stand showed Sienna with a few other people. The Professor looked closely. Sienna wore a wide, toothy smile. She looked to be around her current age. He didn’t recognize any of the other faces.

“Man, this house is enormous!” Emmy exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air as they reentered the hallway for what felt to her like the hundredth time. “We’re never going to find the way up to the fifth floor, are we?”

“Remember, dear," the Professor said, "Every puzzle has an answer. Stay vigilant.”

Emmy huffed. "Yeah, yeah, don't worry. I'm not the type to give up this easily."

"That's the spirit!" 

The next room was a storage area full of cleaning equipment. Then, they came upon a bathroom, another empty bedroom, a closet full of linens, and finally, _finally,_ an unlocked exit to the balcony. The trio piled out with Emmy leading the way. She stretched her arms and breathed in deeply. The crisp, cold air was quite refreshing in contrast to the musty smell of the old house. It was so enjoyable, in fact, that they all paused simultaneously to take a collective breath of fresh, delicious, non-mothball-ridden air.

Luke darted across the balcony, grasped the banister, and looked out toward the snow-covered town. “Golly, look at this! You can see them setting up for tonight’s festival from here!”

Emmy and the Professor joined Luke on either side of him. “My word, it looks like they’ll be putting on quite a show tonight!” the Professor replied. “It certainly merits another go, don’t you think?”

“Without a doubt!” Emmy laughed. “I hadn’t even considered that we might not go.”

Luke looked from one to the other with an excited, dimpled grin on his round face. The two adults laughed to see him so eager and excited. They took turns pointing out different parts of the town to one another. From their vantage point, they spotted a group of people putting up a stage near the square outside of the Great Hall. Others were using long torches to light the street lamps along the road. Still others were sweeping the streets, hanging colored lights, tuning instruments, and cooking food. The sweet, tart smell of lemon pastries wafted toward Luke, Emmy and the Professor on the back of a strong breeze.

The deep, melodic sound of bamboo wind chimes tinkling nearby brought them out of their reverie. Luke, inquisitive and intrigued, was the first to break away from the group and investigate the source of the noise. He passed a set of deck chairs and a few pots full of primrose and pansy blooms to the end of the deck where three wind chimes swayed in the breeze.

“Look!” he suddenly called from across the balcony. “There’s another door over here!”

“Really? Nice find!” Emmy exclaimed. She darted off after Luke. The Professor closed his eyes and took one last deep breath before following after his companions.

Unbeknownst to them until this point, the balcony was oddly constructed along two sides of the house. They rounded the corner and found, as Luke had proclaimed, another door. Luke looked exultant at his discovery. This door was weather-worn and smaller than the interior doors, but functional all the same. Emmy twisted the handle and gave it a push. To her delight, it was unlocked.

“Progress!” she cheered.

However, their celebratory moods would not last long. The fifth, sixth and seventh floors of the Riddle Manor were much like the fourth: full of dark, winding hallways, mothball-stuffed closets, and rooms which sometimes led to other rooms but sometimes did not. Luke and the others were beginning to feel drained and ready to return to their room and pass out. Emmy groaned each time they found another staircase. They didn’t even pause to comment when they found another kitchen tucked away in the corner room of the eighth floor.

“We must be nearing the top of this house, right?” Emmy ventured as they sluggishly dragged themselves up yet another staircase.

“Let us hope,” the Professor replied. He pushed open the door at the top of the landing and stopped mid-stride. Ahead of them stood a single, spacious room with tall, wide windows. Occupying this room from floor-to-ceiling was a collection of beautiful ferns, potted trees, and leafy bushes. Flowers of every color bloomed from each corner of the bright room, dazzled by the last rays of the setting sun. As they walked through the room, the Professor looked up and noted a series of mirrors fixed to the ceiling at odd angles. He pondered inwardly at their purpose. If he had to make a guess, he would wager that they were designed to intentionally concentrate light on certain plants while bypassing others. The result was that a variety of plants with varying needs could be housed together within the same space.

“Professor, stop admiring the plants and look here!” Emmy said, waving at him from across the room.

He tore his eyes away from the glittering display to join the others. They had found another door on the other side of this room and were peering into it. He looked over the shoulders to find a single, dark, narrow stairway leading down. It was difficult to see the bottom. It seemed to zigzag back and forth, but from their vantage point, they could not tell which floor it ended on.

“Might as well!” Emmy said with a shrug, and the others followed her down.

They descended flight after flight of stairs without seeing a single door. Soon, it was too dark to see anything at all. The Professor gripped the railing with one hand as he searched his pockets with the other. “It’s no good,” he said. “I seem to have left the flashlight in my trunk.”

“Hold on, I have some matches,” Emmy said. She carefully lit one and held it out in front of her. She peered over the rail, but there was only darkness below them. They continued their descent for what felt like at least twenty minutes. By the time they reached the bottom, Luke had lost count of the number of flights of stairs they had taken.

“It sure would be nice to have one of those everlasting flames right about now,” she scoffed as she felt her last match begin to burn at her fingertips.

“Just a moment, I think I’ve found a light.” the Professor said.

With a click, a single, bare bulb fixed to the ceiling by a tattered wire flickered on, accompanied by a loud electrical hum. There was just enough light to see the uneven dirt floor underfoot, the narrowly spaced walls which may have at one time been white, and the dark silhouette of a door at the end of the hall.

“Well, this is sketchy!” Emmy exclaimed, clasping her hands together in excitement. “What do you suppose is behind there?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” the Professor responded. He approached the door and placed a hand on it. It was cool to the touch. He wrapped his hand around the cold knob and twisted it-- but it was locked.

“No, it can’t be!” Luke groaned. He put both hands against the door and leaned against it. “How anticlimactic.”

“I was really hoping to find the bombshell here,” Emmy said, dejectedly.

“Ah, tell me-- do you feel that?” The Professor knelt down and placed a hand near the crack between the bottom of the door and the dirt flooring. “There’s a slight breeze from here.”

Emmy and Luke hunkered down to kneel beside him. “Wow, You’re right Professor. What could be the cause?”

“There’s a weird smell, too.”

“What is that? It’s kind of rank.”

“You think so? I find it oddly pleasant.”

“Yeah, it’s earthy, right?”

“I’m certain I smell rosemary... and perhaps eucalyptus?”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out for sure what’s behind this door,” Emmy said as she pushed herself back up to standing. She patted her upper arm and glared at the door, as though sizing it up. “Stand back, guys. I’m gonna break it down.”

“What!? Wait, Emmy, hang on--!”

“--I don’t think that’s _entirely_ necessary--”

“--Why don’t we retrace our steps and search for a key?--”

“--Or pick the lock, even--”

“ _Excuse me!_ ” a familiar voice said from behind. Emmy, Luke and the Professor wheeled around in surprise. Leanne Riddle stood, hands on her hips, on the other side of the hallway. She scowled and said sternly, “May I help you three?”

The Professor, Emmy, and Luke looked at each other. The only sound to be heard was the electric hum of the flickering light.

“Ah, we were just--”

“We just wanted to--”

“We can explain--”

The Professor stepped forward. As he gestured upward toward the house above them, he said, “Leanne, your home is delightfully enchanting, certainly befitting of the most influential family in Eidolon. May I ask who designed it?”

The frown lines on her face deepened. “Emmanuel Riddle,” she said. “He designed and built this entire house. My grandfather had an eclectic taste, as I’m sure you noticed as you were taking your self-guided tour around my home.”

“Eclectic yet profound. Truly an amazing feat of architectural prowess. Your grandfather was a very wise man of many talents.”

Leanne’s hands left her hips to fold across her chest. “So,” she said, “What are you doing down here?”

“To be honest, we were searching for clues about Professor Matar’s whereabouts when--”

“ _Hershel_ ,” she sighed. Perhaps it was the flickering light, but Leanne’s features did seem to soften ever so slightly. Her hands fell to her sides. “Didn’t I already tell you over the phone? Professor Matar left weeks ago. Where he went afterward, I don’t know, but he isn’t here. I promise.”

“I don't doubt your sincerity, Leanne,” the Professor stated. “We merely needed a place to start. However, as you can see, we are lost and cannot find our way back to our room.”

“Ah, I see,” Leanne replied. She sighed. Finally, she said, “Don’t worry, I’ve lived here since I was a little girl, and even I sometimes get lost in this big house. I will guide you back. Follow me.”

Leanne turned toward the stairs and beckoned for the others to follow. Emmy and the Professor looked at each other, then they all followed her up the stairs.

Emmy chewed her lip for a moment. “Leanne-- erm, Dr. Riddle, if you don’t mind my asking, what is behind that door?”

Leanne didn’t answer for a moment. She continued to climb the stairs. Emmy was beginning to regret her question in this awkward silence when Leanne finally replied, “Not much. My husband is a fisherman and a businessman, you see. He owns the local butcher’s shop and he maintains a staff of professionals to collect the fish and turn them into profit. That room houses his fishing gear and other related equipment.”

“Oh, I see,” Emmy said. “That’s… that’s pretty cool.” She thought for a moment, then went on. “I suppose that famous Eidolonian fire comes in handy for cooking around here, doesn’t it? ...Speaking of fish, I mean.” She forced a chuckle.

“Yes, yes it does. The Great Fire is our most prized treasure. Without it, this town would be nothing; we certainly wouldn’t be able to survive these incessant winters.” Suddenly, she paused to look over her shoulder. “I believe the Fire Festival has already begun. Are you three going to check it out?”

“Absolutely,” the Professor said. “I’m sure it will be a sensation.”

She smiled and began walking up the stairs again. “Although the last day of the Festival is always the most spectacular, I’m certain tonight’s show will still be thrilling. Be sure not to miss it.”

At the third landing, Leanne stopped and put her hand on the wall. She pushed and the wall gave way. They blinked at the sudden light. Somehow, she had led them through a secret passageway to the study on the second floor of the Riddle Manor.

Leanne pushed past the wheeled chalkboard. “I’m turning in for the night, but I hope you three have a wonderful time.”

“One more thing before you go, Leanne,” Professor Layton said. “I must ask: where is Professor Matar’s vehicle?”

“Hershel, dear, I think you can probably guess," Leanne said, turning to face him. She looked skeptical. "It’s with Professor Matar, wherever he is. He had it parked out front while he was here, but when he left, he took it with him, as most people do.”

“Thank you, Leanne,” the Professor said. He touched the brim of his hat in gratitude. "I just needed to make sure. Have a good night.”

Leanne looked as though she wanted to question him, but thought better of it. “Good night Hershel, Emmy, Luke. Have fun out there, and stay safe.”


	10. The Festival

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt very unsatisfied with the first draft of this chapter, so I pretty much redid this whole section. I felt I had missed a lot of opportunities to show them happy, so I let them enjoy the festival some more before the next part comes out. :) Let me know how I did, will you? Thanks!

The first things they noticed were the paper lanterns. They were everywhere. Brightly glowing and brilliantly colored, they dangled from long ropes high above each of the streets that Luke, Emmy, and the Professor wandered through. In some areas, the lanterns were so numerous that it was nearly impossible to see the night sky. In fact, the only thing that seemed to outnumber the lanterns were the people. They ran through the roads and danced on the balconies of the surrounding buildings with reckless, undoubtedly alcohol-fueled abandon. There was even a group of people merrily singing from atop the tall, sloped roof of the nearby baker.

Speaking of which, the second thing the trio noticed was the enticing aroma of fried foods and baked goods. Even from their position just outside of the city center, Luke, Emmy, and the Professor could detect the delectable scent of a variety of delicious foods, from lemon bars and chocolate cake to calamari and street corn. It was enough to momentarily distract from finding Matar's keys, and in Luke's case, enough to take his mind off of the case entirely. He closed his eyes and stuck his nose in the air. Each delightful new smell was somehow more titillating than the last. 

Emmy looked down at her youngest companion. "You've got a spot of drool on your chin, you know," she teased.

"Have not!" Luke's eyes snapped open and he wiped his mouth furiously. 

The Professor laughed. "If I didn’t know any better, I might have thought I'd heard the rumbling sounds of _two_ hungry stomachs.” 

“I suppose I can’t argue there,” Emmy admitted. "C'mon, let's go inside and find something to eat!" 

As they entered the town square, the Professor noticed something peculiar: he could no longer see his breath. A few more steps and the difference became indisputable. Gone were the patches of snow, the icy roads, and the frigid breeze. In fact, the temperature in the town center was notably higher than the city around it. 

He loosened his scarf. “Oh my,” he said, “Does anyone else feel that?“

Luke suddenly realized he was sweating. He lifted his hat to allow air to reach his forehead. "Gee, they must have that big fire burning nearby!" 

"Not only that, but there must be at least a hundred torches burning in here, and nearly a thousand lanterns!" The Professor looked around with a worried look on his face. He muttered, "This can't be regulation...."

“Ooo, like a little slice of summer!” Emmy ripped open her overcoat and threw her hands into the air. "I only wish they had an attendant here to take my coat. Or at least a rack to hang it on.” 

As Luke had guessed, The Fire stood just outside of the Great Hall in the center of the marketplace. However, its flames were shorter and more tamed than they had seen before. Instead of its usual dazzling brilliance, it burned a deep, rusty orange. Despite this, or perhaps because of it, a dense, black smoke spilled out of its stone basin like a liquid. It pooled on the ground and spread over the cobblestone floor, swirling around the feet of people nearby. Barefooted dancers dressed in crimson silk sashes and not much else twisted and twirled like ballerinas in this smoke. With each coordinated leap, spin, and dip, the bells tied to their wrists and ankles jingled as they sparkled in the low light.

Emmy, Luke, and the Professor moved to the edge of this pool to watch the show. Emmy nudged the smoke with her foot. It billowed upward for a moment, then sank back down. She watched as a woman decked out in bells all over her arms and legs kicked the smoke high into the air, then whirled around in the column it created as it cascaded back down to Earth. It rolled down her arms and dripped off of her fingers like a delicate spider web. The music crescendoed, then became silent. With a boom, the music began again, and she dipped down dramatically and stomped into the pool of smoke, sending ripples radiating away from her foot toward the edge of the pool. The crowd cheered. 

Emmy's eyes were nearly as wide as her smile. She swiftly turned to look at the Professor. The unexpected move made him grip his hat. Her round, dark eyes glittered in the light like the bells of the dancers. She drew closer. He suddenly felt like a small, helpless creature facing a great predator. "Professor," she said. "We have to dance." 

"Oh! Goodness, I'm flattered, but I'm not-- Perhaps Luke would be better suited to--"

Luke scowled and waved his arms to frantically signal his disapproval. 

As though on cue, and much to the Professor's immediate relief, the music changed and the dancers swiftly moved aside to make room for a pair of men carrying long, thin rapiers. They wore elaborate masks and fancy suits, and without preamble, charged at one another. They each parried and attacked the other to gasps and cheers from the crowd. When one man was finally bested, another took his place. 

Emmy, who had been watching this new development, turned to the Professor. "Mark my words, I'm going to get you to dance before the night is over."

The Professor straightened his hat. "We'll see about that." 

“Um, Emmy? Professor?” Luke said, timidly pointing toward the band playing on the steps of the Great Hall. “...Who is that?” 

"Huh?"

Emmy and the Professor followed Luke's outstretched finger. There, standing on the steps, was a percussionist, a bassist, a man with an autoharp, and a young girl with a wooden flute. All were most likely in their twenties or thirties, save for the flutist. She was young, probably only a few years older than Luke. She had long, dark hair and freckles completely covering her otherwise pale skin. But the most noteworthy thing about her was not in her age or her features, but in her movement. Or rather, her lack thereof. Although the rest of the members of her band animatedly nodded or swayed in time to the music as they played their respective instruments, she sat completely still, except for the calculated motion of her long, thin fingers. Her dark eyes bore darker circles and were seemingly unblinking. 

Emmy let go of the Professor's sleeve. Her arm fell to her side. “Huh. I think she’s staring at us,” she said. 

“Well, don’t stare back!” Luke looked frantically up at her. 

“It is most curious. I’m certain we’ve never met.” 

"But she is definitely staring at us, isn't she?"

"Could she be staring behind us?"

"Maybe she fancies your tophat, Professor."

Luke bit his lip. If he believed in monsters and demons, which he was adamant that he did not, he would have thought her a prime specimen. He gulped. “Hey Professor, Emmy, let's find something else to do, huh? I see a firecracker kiosk over there! Can we buy some?" 

Emmy blinked and finally turned away from the girl. She looked excited. "Firecrackers?" 

"Firecrackers?" the Professor asked, concerned. He too turned away from the girl. "If we get any, we must make sure to use them responsibly." 

"Sure!" Luke said. "Absolutely! Let's go!" 

Luke quickly pulled on Emmy and the Professor's shirts until they gave in and followed him across the square and toward the kiosk. 

A moment later, the Professor, Emmy, and Luke had a handful of poppers, some sparklers, and something called _Cackling Chaos_. They found a quiet spot near the empty bookstore, and Emmy and Luke giggled madly as they threw the poppers at the ground near each others' feet. 

The Professor chuckled as he watched them cavort, but his mind had begun to wander. His hand reached for his coat pocket and felt along the familiar edge of that key. He pictured Leanne's reaction to his question.... _"His car? Why, he took it with him, as most people do."_ Her face was kind as she spoke, but her voice betrayed her exasperation. To her, it would be obvious that Professor Matar had left the Riddle Manor in his vehicle. Why would he leave any other way? And yet, his car key was here in his hand. He pulled it out and looked at it once again, turning it over in his hand. 

Something wasn’t adding up. Where could he be? 

“Maybe he hotwired it?” Emmy asked. Her voice was small.

The Professor blinked, startled out of his reverie. Both Emmy and Luke were staring up at him, their cheeks pink from laughter, and their eyes wide and full of concern. 

Condensation from his breath rose in a little cloud. After a moment, he said, “I suppose I wouldn’t put it past him. He did have an affinity for thinking outside of the proverbial box, after all. Perhaps he simply misplaced his keys, then broke into his car in a heated moment of desperation.” 

Emmy chuckled. “Well, we’ve all been there.” 

“I’m sure.” The Professor smirked at the thought of Emmy trying to cross the wires of her motorbike. Sagacious firecracker that she was, she probably knew exactly how to hotwire any vehicle. “Still," he continued, "I can’t help but think that I’m viewing this problem from the wrong angle.” 

“Don’t worry, Professor! I know we can find him-- you’re the smartest person I know!” Luke pulled on the hem of the Professor’s coat with a determined look on his face. 

“Plus, he has the best assistant-- and the best apprentice-- in the whole world!”

The Professor smiled warmly. “I sure do-- oh!” 

Emmy had swept them both into a very close and very firm embrace. Luke shrieked with mirth as he tried to wriggle free. When she finally let go, the Professor adjusted his tophat with a chuckle. 

Emmy was beaming. “How about we focus on enjoying the festival tonight, and take a fresh look at the problem in the morning?” 

With a smile and a laugh, the Professor agreed. 

"I know what we should do next," Emmy declared, clasping her hands together. "Let's get our faces painted!" 

"Painted, hm?" Luke and the Professor followed her gaze. The Professor suddenly gave a small exclamation of delight. There, behind the face-painting booth, an old man in long, white robes was giving some sort of presentation to do with electricity and fire. 

"Let's take a quick look at this before we do that," he said. 

Emmy grinned devilishly. "But Professor, we want to get our faces painted." 

The Professor craned his neck to look at the show. "We can come back right after it's over." 

"Alright, but only if you get your face painted too." She and Luke exchanged glances and tried to keep their faces straight.

With an eyebrow raised nearly to the brim of his hat, the Professor turned to look at them. "Was there ever any doubt?"

Luke cheered and Emmy pumped the air with her fist.

“Now stay back,” the old man said to the little crowd as they approached. He held a round metallic disc in each hand and held them close to either side of a lit candle. “Each of these plates holds a strong electric charge, see? This one has a positive charge, and this one has a negative one. Each disc is connected to this Van de Graaff generator-- it can be very dangerous, so don’t try something like this at home!” He laughed. “Now, what do you think will happen when I get closer to the flame?” 

The Professor smiled and rubbed his chin-- an indication that even Luke, who at this point had not known the Professor for very long, was able to immediately recognize as evidence of the Professor’s intellectual excitement. He leaned in close to Luke. 

“I say, I think you were with me when we heard a short lecture about this at Gressenheller. It is quite enthralling, don’t you agree? If I remember correctly, the flame will be split by the charges because….” 

Luke looked up at his mentor, then back at the little flame atop the candle. He had seen the wonder in the Professor’s eyes. Luke didn’t remember hearing about this at all during his short stay at Gressenheller University. Then again, he was quite often completely lost when it came to the subjects taught at his own school, let alone the Professor’s university. No matter how hard he tried, he was too obtuse; he could never master a topic so profound.

Just as the Professor had stated, the little flame seemed to split as the old man brought the electrically charged plates closer. One half leaned toward his left hand; the other, to the right. The man briefly spoke on the science behind the phenomenon, but his words seemed to whiz right past Luke. 

"Are you getting any of this, Emmy?" When she didn't respond, Luke looked up at her. He frowned. She was standing with her back to the demonstration and was instead once again staring at the band, and in particular, that flutist. To Luke's acute horror, the flutist was staring back. 

"What is her problem?" she muttered. Then, before Luke could reach out and stop her, Emmy sped off into the crowd, shouting, "Be right back!" over her shoulder. Luke sighed and looked back toward the demonstration. The crowd was beginning to thin out. Luke guessed that the man must have finished the show, and started looking around for something else to do.

However, the Professor had other ideas. He applauded merrily as he approached the table. “Good show!” he exclaimed. “Enthralling! Fire is such a ubiquitous thing, and yet it somehow remains so mysterious.”

“Only to the untrained mind, my friend!" The old man waggled a wrinkled finger in mock admonishment, a wide smile playing on his round, withered face. He suddenly turned to Luke, who was shyly standing behind the Professor. “And what did you think of the show, young one?” 

Luke bit his lip. “Uh, it was good.” He inwardly cringed at his own response.

"Did you learn anything?" 

Luke froze. The Professor squeezed his shoulder. "I think everyone in the crowd learned something today, myself included. I did not know that an ordinary little flame on a candlestick contained enough energy to be considered to contain plasma."

“Well, don't kick yourself! I only learned about all of this a couple of months ago." He looked back at Luke. "Look-- since this plate here holds a positive charge, it can draw the negatively charged electrons in the plasma. That makes this half of the flame tilt this way." He showed them the demonstration again, and again part of the flame tilted toward the metal plate. "Negative goes toward positive, and vice versa. It all has to do with the charges in the parts of the atoms, see?” 

The Professor rubbed his chin again. “Are there any practical applications for this?” 

“None so far. Of course, that doesn’t mean that none exist--” 

“--Only that none have been discovered yet.” The Professor grinned. He turned to Luke. “How exciting. We should look into this more when we get back to London." 

Luke nodded and tried not to look daunted by the prospect. 

"London, you say? I met a man from there not too long ago. He's the one who taught me this." The man folded his arms and closed his eyes, deep in thought. "What was his name? Rolando, maybe?" 

"Lorenzo?"

"You got it!" He snapped his fingers. "Lorenzo Matar! Brilliant fellow. Kind, too. Do you know him?" 

The Professor smiled knowingly. "Ah, yes. You could say that. In fact, I'm looking for him, right now. Would you happen to know where he is?" 

"I thought he went back to London...." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, maybe one of the other FireKeepers would know. He was pretty friendly with the higher-ups and spent some time with them in the Great Hall." 

"Thank you, good sir." 

"Call me Theo. Everyone does."

"Well then, thank you, Theo."

The old man began his next demonstration, and Luke and the Professor started to return to the face-painting station. Luke looked up at his mentor and said, "Isn't Nia one of the 'higher-ups'?" 

"I think you're right. We may have to speak to her again. Say, where did Emmy go?"

"Oh, there she is, Professor! Sitting down and getting her face painted." 

"She looks happy. Who is she talking to?"

Luke suddenly felt his stomach drop. Sitting right in front of her was that creepy flute girl from the band. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The information about the demonstration came from this website: 
> 
> https://www.plasma-universe.com/fire-flame/
> 
> If you're interested in watching what Theo did in real life, watch the video in the link above. It's located partway down the page and it's suuuuper coooool!


	11. The Bird Girl

“Hello, boys!”

Emmy smiled wide as Luke and the Professor approached. In fact, she looked downright jolly seated at the face-painting booth with a brush in each hand and an orange blob painted on her otherwise pink cheeks. Opposite this beacon of joy sat the creepiest girl Luke had ever laid eyes on. With her freckled skin, her dark, flyaway hair, and her round, bulbous eyes, this girl looked less like a human to him and more like some kind of irksome creature. She clutched her wooden flute with long, thin fingers. He couldn't help but toss Emmy a scowl as they drew nearer. After all, it was her fault that the girl had left her position in the band and skittered across the entire courtyard in order to join them. 

"Good evening." the Professor smiled and nodded politely.

"Boys, this is Aves. Aves, this is--”

“Professor!" she croaked. "Hershel Layton!" 

He tipped his hat politely. Would he ever get used to being recognized by total strangers? “It’s very nice to meet you, young lady--”

“Aves.” She looked up at him and cocked her head to one side. Or, at least, the Professor assumed she was looking at him. Her dark, round eyes appeared curiously unfocused. And although the Professor would never admit it out loud, he couldn't help but squirm just a little under her scrutinous gaze. Her stare seemed to bore through the man’s very soul. 

“--Aves. Yes. It’s a pleasure. We were listening to your music earlier, Aves. You are quite a talented musician, you know. Tell me, where did you learn to play so skillfully?” 

Aves tilted her head the other way. She sucked her teeth and said, “You were in the newspaper. You and Emmy. And Luke."

The Professor paused. “Ah, yes, I believe you're right.” 

"You saved the town." She suddenly turned to face Luke, who quickly looked away. "Amazing."

Emmy interjected. "Thanks! We worked together to solve a big problem thanks to this little guy." She patted Luke's arm. "If it weren't for him, the town would have been leveled by now, I reckon." 

Aves turned back toward the Professor. "You are good at seeing. You get an eye."

The Professor, puzzled, glanced toward Emmy. She smirked. “Aves here painted a tiger for me. Said it fit my personality." Emmy pointed to the orange blob on her cheek. Under closer inspection, Luke and the Professor could see that it bore little black stripes, two dots for eyes, a pink nose, and some jittery, crooked whiskers. 

"You are observant," Aves explained, "so you'll get an eye." 

"That is very true, Professor. An eye would be fitting," Emmy agreed.

The Professor hesitated for only a moment, then sat down at the table across from Aves. “I would love for you to paint an eye for me. If you make it look half as good as the tiger you painted for Emmy, I shall be wholly grateful. 

Luke, for his part, could not even begin to feign such incredible politeness. Maybe he just needed more practice being a gentleman, but that girl bothered him. Why did she have to cut in and ruin what would have otherwise been a fun night with two of his favorite people? He openly glared as he sat down on the other side of Emmy. 

A girl working the booth introduced herself as something-or-other, then handed Luke a booklet and asked him to choose something for her to paint on his face. Luke tore his eyes away from that freckled specter who, he decided, looked like the bumbling, twisted offspring of a gnarled, rancid crow mixed with a toad, and tried to focus on the booklet so he could choose an image he wouldn’t regret having plastered on his face for the remainder of this miserable night. Unfortunately, he soon discovered that it was impossible to focus. For as close as he looked at the pictures, he fancied he could still see that creepy girl’s dark eyes peering at him from the corner of his vision. 

He glanced over at her, but she was still painting the Professor's face. He felt a sense of regard for the Professor; he somehow looked as calm and collected as ever despite his proximity to the bird girl. 

After a moment, Aves leaned back. “Done,” she announced. 

The Professor picked up one of the little mirrors scattered across the table and timidly peered into it. However, his sense of dread was quickly lifted. Rather than an eyeball, Aves had painted a flame upon his cheek. And a good one at that. It was quite realistic; it featured orange hues mixed with subtle reds and a glowing white-and-blue center. 

"I am impressed, Aves!" 

“I like fire,” she said as he lowered the mirror. 

He grinned. “It turns out you are both musically and artistically gifted, my young fellow.” 

"Isn't she?" Emmy agreed. "Who knew that we would make such a talented friend tonight--?" 

“I want a hotdog.” 

Emmy blinked. “Uh, okay. Let's go look for a food vendor then.” 

“I’m not hungry.” Aves turned her head and stared expectantly at one of the girls manning the booth. When the girl realized that Aves was talking to her, she passed off the paintbrush to the boy beside her and rushed off to help another patron. By the time the boy realized what had happened, it was too late. He sighed and picked up the brown paint. 

Luke leaned in toward Emmy. “Why did you have to bring that girl here?" he whispered through clenched teeth. "She's absolutely mental to the point where even the other local kids dislike her! She's obviously not playing with a full deck, so why can't we just ask her to go away?”

“So, Luke,” Emmy declared loudly, “How about a duck?” 

"A bumblebee," Aves said without turning.

"A bumblebee!" Emmy exclaimed. "Aves thinks you should get a bumblebee. That sounds cute." 

"He's small but hardworking. Humble, but essential. And scares easily." 

"She's got you pegged, hasn't she?" Emmy chuckled.

Luke clenched his fists. “Emmy, what are you playing at?” he hissed. 

“Miss?" Emmy waived down the closest attendant. "Can you please paint a bumblebee for him?” 

"Good choice," the girl said as she picked out a brush. 

Emmy leaned close to Luke and whispered, “Listen-- I have a hunch about this girl. Just trust me." 

"A hunch? You chased after her and brought her here for a _hunch?"_

"That's right. You say she doesn’t have a full deck? Well, I have a hunch she’s got some cards she’s not revealing.” 

"Like what?"

Emmy squinted her eyes and arched a brow. "Like.... Well, she seems keen, for instance. She probably sees a lot--"

"Are you saying that because she never blinks?"

"--so, she definitely knows something about what happened to Matar." 

"What makes you so sure?"

"Check this out-- I asked her about him before you guys arrived. She wouldn't tell me outright, but I think we can get her to talk." 

"What, are you serious?"

"Dead serious." Emmy grinned toothily. "So you're just going to have to be a little flexible. I'm sure you'll still have a fun time tonight."

Luke groaned. This was going to be a long night.

“Relax your face, dear,” the girl at the booth said, holding up a brush full of yellow paint. 

A few minutes later, they left the booth: Emmy with a fierce (albeit goofy) tiger, the Professor with a brilliant flame, and Luke with a rather irregular-looking bee. To Luke's continued dismay, Aves trailed behind them with a hotdog painted on her face. From here, they explored the rest of the festival. They viewed some rather remarkable paper lanterns which were so tall, they towered high overhead and looked like elegant, glowing statues. They watched a set of fire-juggling performers set controlled fires as they leaped over each other and over the fires they set. They even got to light some lanterns of their own and hang them up outside of the Great Hall. But, no matter where they went, no matter how far they walked, and no matter how many booths they visited, Aves continued to follow them like a wretched little duckling without a family of its own.

Suddenly, Luke's stomach let out an audible rumble. 

Aves' head spun to look at him. She pointed at his middle. “You’re hungry.” 

“N-no, I just--” 

“You know, I’m getting pretty hungry too,” Emmy said. “How about we get some food before we go on?” 

The Professor patted his stomach lightly. “I think that sounds like a marvelous idea.” 

“Well, okay.” 

“What kind of food would you like?” the Professor asked, addressing the group.

“Have you ever eaten a bug?” Aves stepped closer to Luke, her eyes somehow even wider than before.

“Uh, no.” Luke frowned and took a step back. “I mean, I think I might have eaten a bug in my sleep once, but that was not on purpose--” 

"You're cool." 

"Um, th-thanks." Luke took another step away and looked around for something to eat. Eager to put more distance between himself and the bird-girl, he led the way through the crowd to where a dozen-or-so food vendors stood. There he spied a 'gourmet' tilapia cart, a fish-and-chips cart, and a big cart labeled ‘seafood paella.’ There were carts selling stuffed crab, catfish fillets, shrimp fondue, and even gumbo. The combination of smells was overwhelming. 

A rather large man in a nearby cart startled them when he shouted, “Crab cakes! Get your crab cakes here! Freshly baked and ready to go!"

"Ugh, I think I'm starting to see a pattern here," Emmy groaned. "And I don't like it."

"Eidolon sits near an inlet which feeds into the ocean," the Professor explained. "I for one am looking forward to some freshly caught seafood." He patted his stomach.

Luke scanned the other food carts for something less pescatarian. “Roe... shrimp cocktails… crawfish croquettes.... Wait a moment, do you smell that?”

Emmy sniffed the air. “Yeah, smells like fish.”

“No, no, no. I smell something sweet. Like cake!”

“Hold on now, Luke,” said the Professor. “A true gentleman must partake in a proper, nutritional meal before indulging in sweets.”

"Sandwiches."

Emmy, Luke, and the Professor looked at Aves. "What?"

"Sandwiches." Aves pointed to a little navy blue shop wedged between two much larger ones. The sign on the front read: _The Picadilly Lion._

Emmy was the first to move. "Well, they're bound to have more than just fish!" she said, already reaching for the doorknob. "C'mon, let's go!" 

The bell chimed. Excitement quickly turned to trepidation. Even though the door opened easily, the room was dark and appeared to be unoccupied.

"Hello?" the Professor called. Silence. "Perhaps we should try another shop." 

"Maybe they're just in the back?" Emmy said. "I could really use a turkey sandwich." 

With some discretion, they walked past a couple of tables and chairs and approached the counter near the back of the little shop. They could hear the muffled sounds of merriment mixed with the occasional firecracker coming from the festival outside. The deep, navy blue wallpaper seemed to radiate a powerful aroma of dumplings and buttered popcorn, making Luke's stomach growl once more. 

A bell sat on the counter. The Professor reached out and rang it once. Suddenly, they heard a commotion in the back, and a familiar figure popped through the door wearing a wrinkled frown upon his ruddy face. "Oi!" he shouted, "What're you--" The angry expression suddenly turned into one of thoughtful confusion, then surprise, recognition, and delight. 

"Good evening, Gero," the Professor said. "Good to see you again. You don't have your dumpling stall open tonight?"

“Hershel!" he roared. Glad to see you and your crew out again tonight! Nah, since the festival is happening right outside the shop tonight, we figured it'd be best to stay in.” He suddenly cupped his hand to his mouth and shouted toward the ceiling: "Aria, come down! Some of those foreigners are here!" 

They heard her muffled cry of excitement, then the sound of footsteps rushing down the stairs behind the counter. The light overhead suddenly flickered on, and Aria burst through the door bearing a big smile on her thin face. "Hershel! Luke! Emmy!" Suddenly, her smile disappeared. "Aves?" 

"Cheese sandwich, please," Aves said, looking at the wall behind the couple. 

"Shouldn't you be taking care of your grandfather?" 

Aves held up her flute in answer to her question. "He said I could play."

Aria and Gero looked at each other. Each wore a sour expression. "Listen," Gero said, turning back toward Emmy and the Professor. He held his hand up to one side of his mouth as though to whisper a secret, but he spoke in full volume. "This girl-- I assume she globbed onto you. If you don't shake her now, she will never let you go. Trust me." 

Emmy and the Professor shared a troubled glance. "I think we'll be alright," the Professor said. "She has been a delight so far." 

"Yeah," Emmy said. "We think she's kind. And clever." 

Aria snorted in laughter. "What a brave soul," she said to Gero. 

"Brave? My bet's on naive!" He laughed as he turned back to the group. "Now, what can I get you?" 

"Cheese sandwich, please," Aves repeated.

Aria closed her eyes for a moment and sighed. "And the rest of you?" 

Emmy, Luke, and the Profesor studied the menu above the counter. Beneath the words 'Try Our Dumplings and Buttered Popcorn!' was a list of sandwiches. Beef, chicken, and turkey, were crossed out. The only other sandwiches were cheese, veggie, peanut-butter-and-jelly, and tuna. Beside this paltry list, a few decidedly unsavory-sounding drinks, snacks, and desserts were listed. Among them were things called 'cocoa-cranberry coffee,' 'buttered beans,' and 'goat cheese cheesecake.' 

Emmy looked deflated. She, Luke, and the Professor wound up ordering tuna sandwiches with everything on them. Gero quickly put them together while Aria manned the register. After the Professor paid for their meals, they began to bid their farewells, only to be cut off by the couple. 

"Please," Aria said, "Why don't you come upstairs and enjoy your sandwiches on the balcony?"

"You'll have a great view of the next fire show," Gero added. 

"We couldn't--"

“We wouldn't want to intrude--” 

"I'm sure you have better things to do--" 

“Not at all!” Gero’s deep, bellowing laugh momentarily drowned out the nearby band. “We love foreigners. Aria, why don't you show them the way while I man the shop?" 

"Absolutely. Come along now." 

With that, Emmy, Luke, and the Professor allowed themselves to be ushered behind the counter and up the stairs to the second floor. Aves trailed behind. Down the hall and around the corner they went until they finally made it to a set of double doors in the living area. Once through these doors, they discovered a little patio area complete with a small table and a set of three chairs. 

“Wow!” exclaimed Luke. "What a view!" 

From this height, they could see much of the town square. The Fire burned brightly in its stone bowl from outside of the Great Hall. It looked more robust than it had earlier tonight; its flames shone a glowing, bright orange. People danced nearby to the tune of another band playing a quick, jaunty melody. They could see the statuesque lanterns, the man with the plasma demonstration, and that awful face-painting station. As Luke gazed between the wrought-iron rods of the balcony railing, he could also see some kind of shadow puppet theater. Kids were laughing uproariously at the antics of the puppets. 

Aria giggled and placed a hand on Luke's shoulder. "Now you see what I mean? Gero and I come out here all the time for the view, but it's especially useful for watching the festivals." She gasped and pointed at the doors to the Great Hall. “Look-- I think they’re starting tonight's Fire Ceremony already! Too bad I can't sit and watch it. I have to help Gero downstairs."

"You can't sit and stay with us?" the Professor asked.

"No, unfortunately. We have some work to do. But you guys can definitely feel free to sit up here and watch it as long as you like, okay?"

They thanked her as she retreated back inside. The Professor gestured for the others to take the three chairs at the table. After some protests from Emmy, they took their seats and unwrapped their food as he stood and leaned against the banister. 

Luke peeled open the wrapping paper and took a large bite of his sandwich. “Good thing I love tuna!” he exclaimed. When he turned towards Emmy, his smile dripped with mayonnaise. 

“Oh, dude, that’s just gross--” 

The Professor laughed. He unwrapped his own sandwich and watched the procession. Over the heads of the buzzing crowd, he could see a person in white robes throw a handful of powder into the Fire, causing it to flash bright white and leap up into the sky. The crowd cheered and the robed person spread their arms out wide as though to embrace the lot. 

Luke suddenly stood up. “Hey, that’s Nia!” 

The Professor leaned over the balcony and squinted. "I believe you're right, my boy." 

"She sure knows how to work the crowd, doesn't she?" Emmy said around a mouthful of tuna.

"My compatriots, my neighbors, my friends." Nia addressed the people around her as they began to quiet. "We are gathered here today to celebrate. Not to merely feast, revel, and enjoy our land and one another, but to honor and remember that which came before us. You are all a part of something big tonight, my friends. For we are, together, more powerful and more exquisite as we evolve and grow together as one. You are the most important part of Eidolon. You are the reason we are here. You give this land promise. Hope. And you owe it to your ancestors to continue this excellence we have achieved. Remember this: we are greater than the sum of our parts. And we must continue regardless of any obstacles in our way. Never forget: Eidolon is free!"

At the conclusion of her speech, a deafening wave of tumultuous cheers exploded from the crowd.

"We are free!"

"For honor!" 

"Fight for Eidolon!"

"Geez!" Luke covered his ears. "They are really worked up, aren't they?" 

"I'll say," Emmy agreed.

Just then, Nia held up another bag. People in the crowd quickly and audibly hushed each other until they were all silent. Nia opened the bag and sprinkled a handful of its contents over the fire, causing it to flash blue and noisily shoot off sparkles. The crowd cheered once again as fireworks exploded in the sky. 

“It would be interesting to find out what ingredients she used to create such colors and dense smoke.” The Professor finished the last bite of his sandwich and neatly folded up the paper. 

“She would never tell the likes of us. I wonder if they’re all so secretive about the Fire?” Emmy looked at the stage with a frown and squashed her paper and last bit of unfinished sandwich in a tight fist. 

"She's a bad person." 

Emmy, Luke, and the Professor looked at Aves. "What do you--?"

"She and Professor Matar. They're not good." 

Just then, Aria came through the doors carrying a bottle of wine and some chocolate cake. She announced: "That was magnificent, wasn't it? She's always like that though. Charming and beautiful through and through. Now, who wants some cake?"

The Professor waved a hand. "We couldn't."

"I won't take no for an answer," she laughed. "We are just so glad to have you here with us, you know?" She put the cake down in the middle of the table and handed a fork to Luke and Aves. She uncorked the bottle and poured three glasses of wine. She handed one to Emmy, one to the Professor, and kept one for herself. "To Eidolon," she said with a smile, "and to all that keep its spirit alive!" 

Emmy and the Professor glanced at one another, then at Aria. 

"Cheers." 


End file.
